The Acts of Forgiveness and Love
by singitanyway13
Summary: "'Cause in the end, no one loses or wins; The story begins again and again with forgiveness and love." Breba story. Keep in mind that they never divorced.
1. Chapter 1

**The Acts of Forgiveness and Love**

_Prologue_

It snowed in Houston that winter, but nothing too bad. The schools were only closed for a few days. Long enough for the kids to go sledding but not long enough to where everyone got tired of laying around the house. Everyone stayed together during that time and bonded. They played board games late into the night, watched movies all day, and made s'mores around a small fire in the backyard. It reminded him of camping trips he had taken with his wife before they were married, before things became complicated.

No one had intended on things being complicated after they were married. No couple ever thinks about the rough patches they might go through. No, they think of how nice it'll be to finally be together constantly, to sleep in the same bed, to share a room, to share a life. They don't prepare for bends in the road and that's a lethal mistake.

The first years were good. In fact, they were great in his mind. In the first ten years, his wife had given him two beautiful daughters and together, they made wonderful memories that they'd cherish for a lifetime. Within five years, a son was born, and he felt his life become even greater than he ever thought it could. He was a successful dentist with the picture perfect family. All that was seemingly missing was a dog in the backyard and no one really minded that fact much. But when the twenty year mark hit, the mountain he was on top of began to crumble beneath him and her both. They struggled to keep their balance and tighten the ropes that kept them suspended and safe. They fought to survive for seven years. The daughters grew up and moved out, leaving the son and the husband and wife. He thought that maybe that would lighten the stressful load. Not to say his children were stressful and brought him strife, it just meant he could focus on his dwindling marriage and saving it.

He was a physically strong man and if he and his wife were literally about to fall off a mountain, he could save them both, no problem. But this mountain was a symbol and no matter how hard he tried, no matter how big a man he tried to be, he just couldn't do it. He just hoped there would be a miracle before they came crashing down to the rocks below.

**xXx**

_January 2007_

The heat was on high and he had three quilts on top of him but Brock was still chilled to the bone. Maybe it was because he was alone on the couch in the living room. Maybe it was because her body wasn't next to his keeping him warm. That was one thing he missed: her being beside him. He hadn't literally slept next to his wife in almost two weeks. He hadn't metaphorically slept with her for six months.

He thought he had insomnia before. Now he was a full-fledged insomniac. He discovered that he couldn't sleep without his wife next to him after his first night on the couch. There was a big argument that evening and when bedtime rolled around, she banished him to the couch with a pillow and nothing else, stating that she was too angry to even look at him. She had slammed the door and the two didn't talk until dinner the next day.

Brock had slept a total of twenty-four hours within the last two weeks, _maybe_. His sleeplessness was beginning to interfere with his work and he realized that this insanity had to stop. He had to get up and go to work in the morning to support his family and he couldn't do that on ten minutes of sleep.

He sat up on the couch, goose-bumps running up his arms and ran his hands over his face. With a long yawn, he gathered up one of the quilts and his pillow and began the trek up the stairs and to his bedroom where his wife slept.

He stopped when he got to the bedroom door, wondering whether to knock or go in. He found this question ridiculous. It was his house and he could walk into any room at any time he pleased. He nodded, satisfied with his own answer, but found himself not moving. What if she was changing clothes? He didn't want to startle or embarrass her. He shrugged and figured that as late as it was, she was probably sound asleep. When he was done arguing with himself, he pushed the door open with the turn of the knob.

The room was quiet and he winced when the closing of the door made a louder sound that he would have liked. He slowly looked toward the bed and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no movement coming from under the covers. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her and start another argument.

He tiptoed over to his side of the bed and placed his pillow where his head would go and slowly sat down then slid into a laying position, gently arranging the quilt over himself. He smiled slightly, enjoying the comfortableness of his own bed. He turned his head to his left, hoping to get a glimpse of his wife. She was so beautiful when she slept, he thought.

Maybe it was the darkness or his eyes playing tricks on her but he could have sworn the bed was empty. Stilling his movements for a split second, he sat up and leaned closer to her, trying to detect any body heat or breathing. When there was none, he reached out a hand for her shoulder but touched a pillow instead. He reached behind him to flip on a lamp and when the room was partially illuminated, he pulled back the sheets to discover emptiness.

"What the…?"

He looked around the room, puzzled for just a moment before the bedroom door creaked open. Brock turned towards it to find his wife slowly coming in. She was fully dressed and had her coat on. He stayed silent until she turned around.

"Brock!" She gasped and leaned against the door, a hand over her chest. "You scared me."

"I could say the same thing," He shot back, knowing where this conversation was headed. "What are you doing?"

Reba pushed off the door and shrugged her coat off. "I went for a walk," Was her simple response.

"At one in the morning?"

She hung up the coat in the closet, slipping off her shoes as well before going to the dresser and pulling out a t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Yes, at one in the morning."

"Tend to do that a lot?"

She entered the master bathroom and closed the door a little too loudly for his liking. She was not happy and he could tell. Did his simple presence make her that angry? He supposed so.

"I do when I can't sleep," She said from the bathroom. He could hear her pick up and set things down on the countertop. He could imagine her actions: first she'd change into pajamas, pants then shirt. Then, she'd pull her hair back into a ponytail before brushing her teeth and washing her face with a mango smelling gel. She'd put her clothes in the hamper and set out a towel for her shower in the morning and then she'd retreat from the bathroom, all ready for bed.

"Well, that makes two of us," He said, staring at the floor. "I can't sleep either. That's why I'm up here."

He heard the door to the bathroom open and he looked up. Her hair was still in a ponytail but she took it down as she flipped the bathroom light off.

"When did you leave?" He asked, not remembering her walking out the door.

"About half an hour ago." She pulled the covers back. "What's with all the questions?"

He shook his head as she folded her arms. He noticed that her cheeks were flushed. "Well, you're my wife and you were outside alone at one a.m. I have a right to be concerned."

"Yes, but that's the only right you have. I'm a big girl, Brock. I'm not eighteen anymore."

He rolled his eyes. "I know that. Do we have to get into this right now?"

She shrugged. "That's up to you. Will you drop it?"

He held up both hands. "I'll drop it."

"Thank you." She sat down and pulled the covers over her lap before lying down completely.

"Are you staying up here?" She asked after a minute.

Brock, who was still sitting up, said, "I was planning on it."

"Then turn out that light."

Brock sighed then shut the lamp off, lying down afterwards. He was careful not to get too close to her. He was treading on dangerous ground already. He didn't want to be the Indian in Cowboy territory. That was a terrifying place to be.

Instead he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling fan, watching it go around and around, wishing his life was like that ceiling fan. It was a bad analogy, he knew, but all that fan did was go around and around. It never changed its cycle, never hurt anything. It stayed the same. That's what he wanted and craved in his life more than anything.

**xXx**

_June 1979_

She was seventeen that summer and on top of the world. She had just graduated high school with no intentions of going to college. She just wanted to be free. Carefree. She didn't want anyone telling her what to do. She was sick of rules and regulations and parents and teachers. She was ready to find some sort of adventure and gallivant off somewhere alone.

The first week of the rest of her life, her daddy woke her up at six a.m. as usual. She got dressed in a huff, upset that she couldn't sleep in like she wanted.

_I have to get my own place soon. Sooner than soon._

"We're going to the feed store here directly," Her daddy, J.V., told her as he sat down in the kitchen right as the sun was coming up. He ate the same thing for breakfast every morning: fried eggs, bacon, and biscuits. It wasn't very good for his heart, but it was a habit, something he had done since he was a little boy. It was also something him and Reba had in common. She joined her father in breakfast and afterwards, they jumped in the pick-up.

"Are we out of oats or something?" Reba asked, rolling down her window and resting her elbow there. The Oklahoma sun was already beating down on the plains and it wasn't even seven o'clock.

"Yep. Although you wouldn't know. You been slackin' on your chores." J.V. looked straight ahead at the dirt road of his property that led out onto the main road.

"I've had finals, Daddy."

"That's what they tell me."

The truck bumped along the gravel and dirt and finally rolled onto the pavement. The sun was making its way over the top of the trees, giving off a beautiful glow.

"Maybe you and Mama should've had more kids. Some younger than me."

"Well, what for?"

"Ranch hands. I'm pretty much grown up, gon' be leavin' soon."

"I had a fine ranch hand. She left me and started singin'."

"Daddy, I told you. I'd help as much as I could, but I got to focus on my singin'."

"I know, Foxy."

Reba smiled at her Daddy's nickname for her.

"Why do you call me that?" She looked over at him with a smirk.

"Oh, I dunno. You're just everywhere, doin' everything. Like a fox. Plus that big red head of yours."

"Don't make fun of my hair." She reached up to her mane of curls and ran a hand through it.

"I wasn't makin' fun. Just statin' the truth. Ya got hair like a wild woman's."

"You're just jealous 'cause you ain't got no hair." She reached over and snatched his cowboy hat right off the top of his head.

"Come on now. Give it back." He tried to reach over but she held it out the window then brought it back in and placed it on her own head.

"It suits me better," She told him, looking at herself in the side-mirrors.

"What ever happened to your hat?"

"I lost it at the Cheyenne rodeo, remember?"

"That's right." He snatched his hat back and put it on. "We'll get ya another one. Or you will, rather. Bein' a grown woman and all, you should be able to pay for your own hat."

"Daddy!"

"What? You said so yourself." He looked over at her with a wink and Reba forgot all about having to wake up at six a.m. The time she got to spend with her daddy wasn't worth losing by sleeping in till the crack of noon.

They made it to the feed store, laughing and joking the whole way there, and by the time that they pulled in, the sun was resting in its proper place, high atop the trees, shining down to make for a hot work-day.

"It's really beatin' down today," J.V. said as he tilted his hat down to shield his eyes, walking into the feed store, Reba on his heels.

Inside, Reba went off by herself while J.V. went to get the feed order he had called in last week. She went straight to the hats, figuring if her daddy had brought up her getting another one, he meant today, so she wanted to pick one out.

There was an array of hats, both male and female. Pink ones, straw ones, ones with decorative belts and feathers. Reba stood there looking, trying to make a decision when she sensed someone beside her. When she turned a bit, she saw a young man looking as well. He was blonde, tan, and looked a bit older than her.

"Hardly can make a decision, huh?" He asked.

That took Reba off guard but she answered just the same.

"Sure." She snuck a peak at his face. He seemed kind yet mischievous.

"Which one are you getting?" He asked. Reba detected the slightest bit of an accent but she was sure he wasn't from Oklahoma, much less the southeastern part.

"Don't know yet."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him kind of smiling at her.

"Alright, then. Well, you have a nice day, ma'am." He nodded then picked up the plainest looking hat there before walking down another aisle.

Reba went back to trying to pick out a hat and finally decided on one that looked similar to her daddy's.

"You ready, Foxy?"

Reba jumped at her father's voice and turned around. "Yeah."

"Good. They're loadin' up the truck." He took the hat she held in her hand. "You pick this out?"

"Yep."

"This the one you want?"

She nodded and they both went up to pay for it. They left after the workers had finished loading up the feed in the back of the pick-up.

"What do you think about me barrel-racing again, Daddy?" Reba asked when they got going down the road.

J.V. kind of made a face and went to shake his head. "How about you stay with your singin', alright?"

"Am I that bad?"

"I wouldn't say bad…" "What would you say?"

"I would say you need to stick with singin'."

"Can't I do both? I love both."

"You can but, frankly, I don't think I have the insurance for it."

Reba pretended to be mad but she knew he was just teasing her. She was grateful for the kind of relationship with her father where they could joke and kid and no one got hurt.

"Hey, who is that?" She asked a minute later, sitting up a bit in her seat.

There was somebody walking a ways behind them. She spied him in her side-mirror.

"Looks like Jesse," J.V. said, referring to one of the many cousins in the family.

"No. That ain't Jesse."

J.V. slowed the truck to a crawl and waited for whoever to catch up. When he honked the horn, the hitch-hiker started to jog towards the truck. When he arrived at the window, Reba saw who it was: the man from the feed store.

"Where ya headed?" J.V. asked through Reba's window, which was where the man was.

"Just up the road to my uncle's place," The young man stated. He was wearing the hat he had bought from the feed store.

"Alright. Get in. Scoot over here, Reba."

She did as she was told and the man got in. He shut the door and they were off.

"What's your name, son?" J.V. questioned.

"Brock Hart."

"J.V. McKinney. This here's my daughter, Reba."

"I believe we already met," Brock said, looking at Reba. "Didn't we? In the feed store?"

"Somewhat. I don't think you'd call that meeting, though," Reba looked over at him and finally got the whole picture. He had baby blue eyes and the most charming smile. He didn't look older than twenty-five and Lord have mercy was he toned.

"Well, let's meet again." He held out his hand. "Brock Hart."

Reba shook it slowly, mesmerized by his gorgeousness. "Reba McKinney."

"Nice to meet you, Reba. And you, Mr. McKinney. Thanks for the ride. Just turn here." He pointed down a short, dirt road. "Just up here a ways."

"Alright," J.V. said. "Where are you from? You don't sound like you're from around here."

"I'm from Texas, actually. I'm going to school in Houston. I'm just up here for the summer to help my uncle out with his ranch."

"Your uncle's Pete Russell?"

"Yes, sir."

J.V. nodded. "Good man. I've seen him in passing a few times."

"Hardest workin' man you'll ever meet."

"Oh, I believe it. Sun-up to sun-down every day."

Reba tuned the men out and observed Brock for a moment. He sat in the truck so casually. Arm out the window like hers had been, a laugh like he had never been sad a day in his life, his legs slightly spaced, like any man would sit, and a hand on his knee, elbow nearly touching her side.

Before she knew it, though, the truck rolled to a stop and Brock got out and slammed the door.

"Thanks for the ride, sir."

"No problem. Stay out of trouble."

He winked and backed away from the truck with a wave. It wasn't until Reba and her father got home that she realized he had been winking at her. That fact made her blush but it also made her happy knowing that someone in this Podunk town noticed her.

**xXx**

_January 2007_

Brock got home at a little after six the next day. He figured that he was in for a good lecture about getting home on time but today certainly wasn't the day for him to get chewed out. He had to deal with several patients who were upset because he couldn't take their insurance. He also had to do an emergency root canal plus pull a ten-year-old's tooth because the kid never brushed or flossed. So many things had gone on today and all he wanted to do was sleep.

He trudged into the house and hung his jacket on the coat-rack by the door, preparing to run upstairs and take a shower but the soft music coming from the kitchen stopped him. He backed up a few steps and peered in the small window to see Reba in the kitchen cooking something. Any other time, he wouldn't have thought anything of it, but this time was different. She was in a black, strapless dress that hit just above the knee with her hair all done up in curls.

_Is it our anniversary?_

Surely it wasn't. She wouldn't make him dinner and dress up just because it was their anniversary. She hadn't done that in two years. What would be different this year?

Anyway, it was January. They had had a June wedding and Brock knew good and well it was freezing outside, not warm and sunny.

Still, he decided to see what in the heck she was doing. He quietly tip-toed over to the window and crouched down just enough to be out of sight, but not enough to where he couldn't see.

"Grab a bottle of wine from the cabinet over there, would you?"

His heart started to race, thinking she had seen him but almost fell over when a man appeared and walked across _his_ floor to _his_ cabinet and got out a bottle of _his_ wine.

"You sure your husband isn't coming home?" The mysterious man asked as he went and did the favor.

Reba turned around and lowered the volume on the radio that was sitting on the counter and began chopping something.

"I'm positive. He works until eight nowadays and always calls or texts when he's headed home. And if he does catch us, I'll just say you're a client."

The man brought the wine over and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing her hair to the side to kiss her neck. "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

"Of course I did." She turned around to face the man and kissed him firmly on the mouth. The man's grasp around her waist wandered to her backside. He squeezed and Brock heard Reba giggle.

That was it. His wife was not about to disrespect him like that in his own house. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, not caring to be quiet.

"What the hell is this?"

Reba looked over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove. "What the hell is what?"

Brock blinked and saw that she was in her wrinkled work clothes, not a little black dress, and her hair wasn't done up, it was just down and natural. There was no strange man to be found. He ran a hand over his face. "Nothing," He said.

"You're really crazy sometimes," She told him, turning back around.

"Long day." He went to the fridge to get a beer and thought for a second before going to his wife and placing a hand on the small of her back. "What are you cooking?"

She reached around with her right hand and removed his hand before backing up a bit to check something in the oven. "Just something I read in a magazine." She shut the oven door, throwing the potholders on the counter. "What are you doing?" She pointed to his beer.

"What?"

She took it from him. "Elizabeth is spending the night tonight." She set it in the sink and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "You aren't going to drink."

"Why not? She's seen me drink before."

Reba rolled her eyes. "You've been drinking more than usual lately."

"I have not."

"You have, and we both know it. If you won't do it for Elizabeth, do it for the simple fact that I'm asking you not to tonight." She walked over to the table with a stack of plates in hand.

"Is Jake not eating tonight?" Brock asked, noting she only set out three plates.

"He's at Robbie's house." Next she set out silverware and cups.

"Oh. Spending the night?"

"Yes."

Brock grabbed his beer and Reba watched him closely as he put it in the fridge. "For tomorrow," He told her, to which she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

"Do we have to fight?"

"I don't know. That's up to you, Brock."

"Alright. I choose not to fight."

"Fantastic."

**xXx**

Elizabeth was trying her hardest not to fall asleep. It was nine o'clock and she had begged Reba to let her stay up until ten, and Reba had relented, knowing she would fall asleep at nine-thirty at the most.

"Can I have some more ice cream?" Elizabeth asked. Everybody had just finished eating sundaes on the couch while watching Finding Nemo, a movie the seven-year-old could quote line for line, she had seen it so many times.

"You just had a bunch," Reba told her, placing her bowl on the coffee table.

"But I'm hungry."

"We had dinner two hours ago."

"Couldn't you let her have just one more scoop?"

Reba slowly looked to her right. Brock was getting up, taking Elizabeth's bowl to the kitchen to fill it up once more.

"Are you kidding me?"

Brock stopped. "It's not going to hurt."

"It's late. That's way too much sugar to be having this late at night."

"Would you loosen up? Lizzie's at Grandma and Grandpa's. We have to spoil her." He winked at his granddaughter who turned around and sat up on her knees, elbows on the back of the couch.

"Put chocolate syrup on it!" She told him.

"I will."

"And M&M's."

"I don't think we have any."

"Okay. But don't forget the chocolate."

Brock smiled. "I won't forget." He disappeared into the kitchen and Elizabeth turned back around and sat down correctly. The movie became boring for her and she got up after spying a big book underneath the coffee table.

"What's this?" She asked, picking it up and lugging it to the couch.

Reba grabbed it from her and set it on her lap. "Come here," She said, patting the seat next to her. "This is a photo album." She opened to the first page.

"Is that you and Grandpa?" She pointed to Brock and Reba's wedding picture back in 1980.

"It is."

"You look different."

"It was a different time."

Brock came back and sat down with Elizabeth's ice cream. "Here you go, sweetie."

"Thank you." The little girl took it and set it in her lap, eating and looking at the pictures as Reba turned the page.

"Whatcha got there?" Brock asked, leaning over a bit.

"Photo album," Elizabeth told him.

"Oh…"

"Grandma?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you and Grandpa meet?"

Reba glanced at Brock. How they met was something she hadn't thought of in a while. It was a fond memory, though. A sweet one.

"We meet at a feed store," Reba told her.

"What's that?"

"That's a place where you buy food for horses and other animals," Brock explained. "I was in Oklahoma with my uncle one summer and we just happened to meet at the most unsystematic place possible."

"It really was a chance meeting," Reba added. "Who knows what would have happened if I had slept in that day and let my daddy go to the feed store by himself." That was another thing she hadn't thought about in ages.

"How old were you two?" Elizabeth asked.

"I was seventeen, about to turn eighteen and Grandpa was twenty-one."

"Summer of '79," Brock said, looking at his wife. She was just as beautiful today as all those years ago. "Best summer of my life…"

**R&R? ****(:**


	2. Chapter 2

_June 1979_

"Don't you be gone all day long, you hear me!"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Reba took off walking down the dirt driveway after finishing her chores. She felt kind of guilty about leaving Daddy all alone to clean out the horse stalls, but her job was to feed all the animals and that was usually it. After her chores, she'd go down the road a piece to the lake for a swim. Today she really needed it. It was up to a hundred and one degrees outside.

She walked along the gravel road, her boots kicking up the dust, and hummed a song. Life in Oklahoma got boring and her way of escaping it was by singing about the great place called Nashville. She'd get there one day, even if it killed her. She had the voice. She had the brains. She had the determination. She could do it.

By the time she finished the song, she was at the lake. It was way back out in the holler and you couldn't see it from the road, so she escaped behind a bush and began taking off her top, tossing it to a large rock. It wasn't really a lake, more like a deep creek.

She pulled her boots off and set them next to the rock before shoving her jeans off. She had her swimsuit on under her clothes so she wouldn't have to go without anything on.

She heard movement a few yards away, and when she poked her head around the tree, she saw somebody was already swimming in the creek. It was that Brock guy.

"Hey!" She hollered.

Brock turned around, chest deep in the water. "Hi, there." He smiled, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. "Mighty hot today."

Reba stepped to the edge of the creek, folding her arms over her chest. "Yes, it is."

He moved his arms around, making the water swirl around him. "I appreciate the ride earlier."

"No problem." She sat down and put her feet in the water, leaning back on her hands. "You said you were from Texas?"

"Yeah. Going to school there."

"What's your major?"

"I'm going for my doctorate."

"Really? Aren't we ambitious."

He laughed. "You could say that. I'd like to open up my own dental practice. Do you go to school around here?"

"I just graduated high school."

"Oh. Well, you must have a college in mind."

"Nope. I'm not going."

That struck him as odd, but he nodded, lips pursed. "Interesting. What are you planning on doing with your life, if you don't mind my asking."

She paused before answering, "I'm going to go to Nashville to be a singer." She was apprehensive about telling him - anybody, for that matter - her plans for her future. People rarely took her seriously if she did. It sounded like a childish dream.

Brock didn't seem to think so. He seemed truly intrigued. "Really? That's different. I've never met someone who wanted to do that." He swam around a little. "Want to sing for me?"

She blushed. "I'll pass."

"Come on. If you want to be a singer, you can't have stage fright."

"Maybe another time."

"Okay. I guess you're intent on seeing me again."

She chuckled, loving how he was flirting with her. The only older men she talked to where her cousins and all they ever did was tease her. The attention was something new. "You live just down the road."

"Sounds like a good song title, there." He pointed at her with a wink.

"It does. And yes, I do intend on seeing you again. Maybe at the feed store."

"I'd like to see you outside the feed store. It's kind of stuffy and smelly in there."

"True. Want to go for a walk?"

"Sure."

Reba stood up, moving to get her clothes and boots. "Just let me get changed again."

"Um, Reba?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Would you hand me my pants?" He pointed to a pair of jeans that were hanging on a low tree branch. A red t-shirt was nearby along with blue boxers. Reba blushed, knowing he was stark naked, and grabbed his clothing, setting it on the bank.

"I'll be over here," She told him and walked away.

She dressed and waited for him behind the tree. When he walked over, fully dressed, they both sauntered towards the road.

"So," Brock said, pushing his hands into his pockets as they walked. "How long have you lived here?"

"My whole life." She sighed.

"You sound happy."

She laughed briefly. "It just gets boring sometimes. There's not always a lot to do. Have you lived in Texas all your life?"

"Yep. Born and raised. Can't you tell by my accent?"

"You don't have one."

"Yes, I do! Everyone says I do!"

"Trust me. You don't."

He glanced at her. "Maybe you can't tell 'cause you're used to your own hick accent."

She scoffed. "I have an accent but I ain't a hick."

"'Ain't' isn't a word."

"It is in my vocabulary."

He smiled. "Do you make up many words?"

"I didn't make it up. Everyone in the free world uses it."

"I used to get swats when I used improper English."

"I'd hate to be in your family."

"Aw, come on, now. We just met. Give it at least a month before you diss my family."

She looked over and saw his crooked smile and knew he was teasing. When her cousins teased her, she wanted to kill them, but with Brock it was different. It was like he actually paid attention to what she said and seemed interested. It was something new to her and she began to like it immensely.

**xXx**

_January 2007_

"And you got married after that?" Elizabeth interrupted.

Reba and Brock, who had been taking turns telling the story, laughed.

"No," Reba said. "That was just the first day. We waited a long time before we even thought about getting married."

"Actually," Brock said, looking at Elizabeth. "I thought about marrying your grandma that very first day we met. I knew I'd marry her someday." He looked up at Reba who was staring at her lap. "And I did."

Elizabeth nodded. "And you went swimming without any clothes on?"

Brock laughed. "I was poor. I didn't have a bathing suit."

"Kasey does that, too." She giggled, referring to her thirteen month old brother.

"You did too, when you were little."

"I think we all did," Reba said, closing the photo album and standing. "Alright, Lizzie. Time for bed."

"You said I could stay up till ten!" The little girl cried, remembering her ice cream which had been sitting in her bowl melting away this whole time.

Reba pointed to the clock on the wall. "See where the big hand and the little hand is? That means it's ten o'clock."

"Just a little while longer?" She clasped her hands together and put out her bottom lip.

Brock thought best to back up his wife. "Lizzie," He said. "Look at it this way: the sooner you go to bed, the sooner you can wake up and go to the park tomorrow."

Elizabeth considered this. "Okay. But you promise we can go to the park?"

"I promise." He drew a cross over his heart.

She looked down at her lap. "What about my ice cream?"

"I'll put it in the freezer." Reba grabbed it and headed to the kitchen while Brock scooped Elizabeth up over his head. Her squealing laughter hurt Reba's ears but she smiled. She missed having little ones in the house, getting them ready for bed and such.

She heard Brock joking around with the seven year old and she wondered why he was only this easy-going when she was around. Any other time he was uptight and temperamental and picking fights at the worst times. It just seemed that the longer they were married, the harder it got to stand each other. And she hated that because no matter how mad he made her, at the end of the day, they still loved each other. Right…?

She shook off the negative thoughts and put Elizabeth's ice cream in the freezer. She'd forget about it by tomorrow but Reba was sure Brock or Jake would eat it, so it wouldn't go to waste.

She began loading the dinner dishes in the dishwasher as Brock came into the kitchen.

"Is she asleep?" Reba asked.

"No," Brock responded, grabbing a glass to fill with water. "But she said she'd be okay as long as I turned on her night light."

"I thought Cheyenne said she didn't need that anymore."

"She had it in her bag, so I plugged it in. I don't feel the need to analyze everything and be in control constantly."

Reba slammed the dishwasher shut and whirled around to face him. "If you're implying I do that, you're wrong. I simply didn't want to get her back on a nightlight if she didn't really need it."

"My question is why does it matter and why do you care?"

"Because I'm an adult and it's my job to care."

"Okay. But being an adult doesn't mean being mundane and boring all the time." He turned the faucet on and filled up his glass. "You used to be so fun. Now you're full of rules and I'm surprised Elizabeth even wants to come over anymore. You made such a big deal about her having a second bowl of ice cream."

"I wanted the child to be able to sleep tonight!"

"She will! How many times did we let Cheyenne have a second helping near bedtime? She turned out just fine. It's not that big a deal."

Reba shook her head and snatched up a sponge from the sink and began wiping down the counters. "I just didn't want her up all night."

"If she is, I'll handle her."

"That's not the issue. She needs her rest."

Brock waved his hand in the air. "It's obvious I'm not getting anywhere with you."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm still a stupid seventeen year old. I'm your wife. Treat me like it."

Brock rolled his eyes. "How about you start treating me like your husband instead of your roommate?"

"Roommate?"

"Yes, roommate. Someone who sleeps on the couch and feels awkward at the breakfast table because they don't feel like they have a home anymore."

"If that's they way you feel then…"

"Then what?"

Reba paused before looking away. "Nothing." She went to wipe down the stovetop.

"No, what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Then why did you start a sentence when you-"

"Would you let it go?" She spun around. "Stop it. Just stop it. You are driving me insane, Brock! Every little thing you do makes me want to snap your head off, so if you'd like to live, I suggest you leave me the hell alone!"

Brock was taken aback. She had never just lashed out at him like that, although he figured it was coming sooner or later.

"Sorry," He mumbled.

She turned back around, eyes filled with anger, and continued her cleaning. She felt no remorse for yelling at him. She figured he deserved it and maybe he'd pull his head out of his ass.

"Does it matter if I say I'm sorry for causing problems tonight?" Brock said after several minutes of silence and leaning against the countertop while Reba kept scrubbing the already clean stove.

"It doesn't if you're just going to keep screwing up."

He took a step forward and reached from behind to stop her movements. He set the sponge aside and gently turned her around to face him.

"I'm sorry," He said, looking her in the eye. "I hate fighting. Honestly, I'd rather have myself run over by a truck. I hate the way it makes people look at us. I hate the way it makes the both of us feel. I hate everything about it."

"But you're not doing anything to change it."

He trapped her between the stove by placing his hands on the stovetop, one hand on either side of her. "Then maybe we should try counseling again."

"The counselors don't understand. That's why it doesn't work-"

"Let's try. One more time. We don't really have anything to lose." He didn't lose eye contact with her and to his delight, she didn't look away either.

"What if our problems are too big to fix this time?"

"If we still truly love one another, they're never too big." His skin became hot as he thought about his wife saying she loved him. It had been a long time. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

She hadn't said it. "And I love you. So I think it'll work." He grabbed her chin and pulled her into an aggressive kiss. It was the most affectionate thing either had experienced in six months and Brock was floored by it. He smiled when he felt her lips moving against his own and her arms wrapping around his neck.

They pulled away a minute later, their faces so close, their foreheads and noses touching. Their eyes were still closed and Reba felt Brock's breath on her lips when he said, "I know you're afraid. I am too."

She swallowed. "I'm not afraid," She whispered.

He chuckled lightly. "I know you like nobody else does, Reba. And it's okay to be afraid." He lifted a hand to her cheek and opened his eyes when he felt tears against his palm.

"I'm sorry." She pulled away quickly, wiping frantically at the tears, turning away from him.

"Hey." He grabbed her wrist and turned her to face him. "Cry if you need to. It's not weakness. It's just a sign that you've been strong for too long."

**R&R? (:**


	3. Chapter 3

_January 2007_

She had let her guard down last night. It was something she didn't let happen often but it happened last night. She hadn't meant to cry and she had done everything she could to stop it but when the first tear fell, it was as if it gave permission for a hundred more to fall.

She had felt weak after she had cried a while. She hadn't felt any better and she shut Brock out. Wouldn't let him touch her, look at her, talk to her, nothing. Even though he had assured her crying wasn't a sign of weakness, she didn't believe him. Crying was what people did when they couldn't handle the pressures of life. And she was sure she could handle her life just fine, and that's why it aggravated her to no end when she allowed herself to sob uncontrollably.

Brock didn't try to talk to her about it the next morning. It was as if they hadn't had their little moment in the kitchen, and everything was still tense.

It was particularly awkward when the two took Elizabeth to the park and had to sit on the same bench and watch her play with the other kids. They sat on opposite sides of the bench, a large gap between them. They didn't talk except when Reba lost sight of Elizabeth for a moment and began panicking. Brock had reached over, laying a gentle hand on her arm and pointing towards the slide, saying, "She's right over there."

His touch was odd, for she hadn't felt it in so long. It was foreign to her and she almost didn't like it. She knew that was a horrible thing to think but it was true no matter how bad it sounded.

After Elizabeth had played for about an hour, the ice cream man's jingle was heard through the air and Elizabeth took off running towards it with a large group of kids surrounding her. Reba and Brock followed and got Elizabeth a popsicle before choosing to steer clear of all the screaming kids on the jungle gym. Instead, they began to walk around the park on the jogging trail.

"How's your popsicle, Lizzie?" Brock asked.

"Good. Want some?" She held out the dripping popsicle but Brock shook his head.

"No, thanks. Grandma might want some, though."

Elizabeth looked towards Reba but Reba was already shaking her head. "I'm fine, honey, thank you."

The little girl shrugged and happily ate the rest of her treat before throwing the stick in a garbage can on the trail.

"You never finished your story last night," Elizabeth said after awhile.

"What story?" Brock asked, grabbing her tiny hand.

Elizabeth reached for Reba's hand and said, "Of how you two met and fell in love." She drug out the word 'love' and winked, which Brock thought was adorable, considering she couldn't do it very well.

"Oh, that's right. We didn't." Brock rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Where did we leave off?"

"You went for a walk with Grandma." She grinned and looked up at Brock. "It's like you're meeting all over again, 'cause we're on a walk now. Only I'm here and I wasn't back then."

Brock chuckled. "Right. Well, Grandma, how about you start off this time." He smiled at Reba who had been silent this whole time.

She sighed before saying, "Alright. I'll tell the story…my way."

**xXx**

_June 1979_

The two walked and talked for hours, it seemed. Neither getting bored with the other's words or stories. All of Brock's college adventure stories fascinated Reba and she had to admit, she had second thoughts on her decision not to go, but she figured God would lead her to do the right thing. Brock, on the other hand, was listening to her rodeo stories intently. He thought it was amazing how she could navigate a 1,200 pound animal around three barrels in a matter of seconds.

"Have you ever fallen off a horse?" He asked her as they turned and headed back down the road they had been walking up and down all this time.

"Lots of times. I've never gotten hurt, though."

"Not once?"

"Nope. My daddy has though. He's cracked ribs, busted his lip and head open, fractured his tailbone, and broken all his fingers at one point or another."

"Wow."

"Rodeo life is hard."

"Sounds like it."

"College life seems rough, too."

"It can be. You just gotta know when to stop partying and start studying. You gotta be quick on your feet. There's a lot of pick-pockets on campus."

"Folks will steal your wallet at rodeos, too. They'll take your stuff anywhere. Shame how the world is these days."

"Hard to find a good heart." He looked over his newfound friend. "I think we have us a couple right here, though."

"That's very self-righteous." She smirked. "Although, I do agree."

Brock smiled and breathed in the late evening air. It was clear here. In Texas, there was so much pollution, it hurt your eyes sometimes. In Oklahoma, the atmosphere was different. Friendly and welcoming.

"Do you know about what time it is?" Reba asked. "Daddy told me not to be gone all day. I reckon I've just about broken that rule."

Brock shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't have a watch."

"Damn it." She looked up. "Sorry."

He held a hand up. "Don't apologize to me. I ain't the one letting people into Heaven."

Reba laughed. "Thank goodness!"

"What? You don't trust my judgment?"

"Just about as much as I trust you with a branding iron."

"What's a branding iron?"

She looked at him with wide eyes before walking a few paces ahead of him. "Lord…"

"What? What is it?"

She smiled and shook her head, turning around to walk backwards. "Nothin'."

"Come on."

"It'd take too much explaining." She waved a hand then suddenly stopped walking.

"What?" Brock asked, looking over his shoulder. In the distance, he could see two guys walking their way. "Who are they? Do you know them?"

"That's Jesse and Poke. My cousins." She slowly started walking backwards, keeping her eyes on the boys.

"Poke? What kind of a name is Poke?"

"The kind of name where your parents are shit-faced drunk when you're born." She looked up. "Again, sorry."

He held up a hand and smiled. "Again, not the Big Man Upstairs."

She rolled her eyes before squinting them. "Oh, no."

He looked behind him again. "What?"

"They got BB guns."

"So?"

"They like shootin' at people. They shoot at me all the time."

"They shoot you?"

Reba nodded then took off running. "I suggest you follow!" She yelled.

Brock watched as she got smaller and smaller then looked back to see Jesse and Poke start sprinting towards him. Sure enough, they both held their own BB guns. Brock darted off towards Reba and finally caught up to her, the boys gaining on them.

"Why are they chasing us?" He gasped, trying to keep up with her. She was fast.

"'Cause they're arrogant bastards and think they can do whatever the hell they want. They're only fifteen and got attitudes like the Choctaw Indians."

"The Indians have attitudes?"

"If you rub 'em the wrong way, yeah. Now, stop yakkin' and run." She pretty much began leaping as she ran, trying to get away from her cousins. Before long, the sound of shots ringing through the air was heard, BB's bouncing off the gravel.

Brock heard the boys laughing right before he felt a pain in the calf of his leg. It was enough to send him barreling towards the ground, nearly doing a flip as he came to a stop.

He hollered at Reba and she turned to see Brock sprawled out on the ground, holding his leg.

"Get up!" She yelled at him.

"I can't!" He yelled back. "They got me!"

Reba saw the boys getting closer. And the closer they got, the better their aim got. Thinking quickly, she picked up a large rock a few feet away and went and stood in front of Brock. The boys slowed to a walk and soon they were face to face.

"I ain't above marring y'all's faces," She told the teenagers. From the ground, Brock looked up to see that both boys had blonde hair and wore boots on their feet. He assumed they were brothers, as they looked almost identical.

"Who's your boyfriend?" One asked.

"That ain't my boyfriend, Jesse. You know better than to go shootin' people. Now, stop it or I'll tell your daddy."

"Tattle-tale."

"That's the best you got?" She threw the rock in the air and caught it with her hand a few times. "Again, I'll throw it if you don't get lost."

The one named Jesse put his chin up and looked down his nose at her. "Fine. But since you're boyfriend's a wuss, he gets it again."

Before anyone could stop him, he aimed and shot a BB right at Brock's crotch.

"Sonofabitch!" He curled into a ball, holding himself and the boys took off running. Reba threw the rock anyway, narrowly missing Jesse's head. She looked down at Brock and chuckled.

"Are you laughing?" He gasped.

"Yep. Get on up. I got to get on back to the house." She held out a hand and when he uncurled himself, he took it and she hoisted him up.

He walked hunched over back to the house, cursing the boys the whole way there.

"You're pretty tough," Reba told him, slapping him on the back. "If Jesse'd 'a gotten shot in the crotch, he'd 'a run off cryin'."

He was still grunting and moaning here and there. "Yeah, well, it took all the manliness inside of me not to cry. I had to dig deep."

When they started up Reba's driveway, it was dusk. Brock could walk sort of normal by now, and the ugly expression had worn off his face.

"Well," Reba said as she glanced towards the house. The porch lighted flicked on. "Despite our wild chase and your injuries, I had a nice time."

"I did too." He gave a half-smile. "Tell your cousins if I ever see 'em again, I'll whoop their ass."

"Eh, I won't tell 'em that. Let it be a surprise." She winked and started to walk inside the house.

"Hey!" He called as she started up the porch. When she turned he said, "Wanna do something sometime?"

"Sure. Just come by the house."

"I'll be here."

She waved and went inside. Brock watched her, making sure she got in okay. She was something else. She wasn't like the girls at his college who were all prim and proper and worried about what everyone thought of them. Reba was her own person and he admired that quality more than most would.

**R&R? I think you all will like the next chapter! (:**


	4. Chapter 4

_January 2007_

Her phone beeped twice, making Reba open her eyes and pick it up. She had a text message from Cheyenne. She knew the subject matter even before she opened it. Her and Brock were supposed to eat at her daughter's house tonight and it had completely slipped her mind.

_Mom, where are you? Dad's already here…_

She texted back: _Got tied up. Be there in twenty._

After the walk in the park with Brock and Elizabeth, her granddaughter had suggested the small get-together and brought it up again when Cheyenne came to pick up Elizabeth later that evening. Cheyenne thought it was a great idea and Elizabeth had been so excited. She kept saying over and over how she wanted Reba to see her new dollhouse.

"I've gotta go," She mumbled, rolling out of the cheap, motel bed.

The man beside her, her therapist, Jack Morgan, sighed. "What for?" He grabbed her around her middle. "Aren't I giving you a good enough time?"

She shook her head and flung his hand off her. "It has nothing to do with that. I'm eating over at Cheyenne and Van's house tonight. I completely forgot and Brock's already there." She picked up her clothes from the floor and hurriedly put them on, Jack watching her every move.

He leaned back on the pillow. "So, are we going to set up a counseling session?

Reba rolled her eyes. "I told Brock I'd go to counseling, however I have no intention of actually doing so."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I'm sleeping with the therapist!" She smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt. When she had told Brock therapy wouldn't work, she hadn't been kidding. The therapist would be on her side and she knew that if she went and played along and acted as if she had no feelings for Dr. Morgan, the marriage would most likely end in divorce. The whole session would be a big joke, and Reba was not going to waste her time with it.

"You're damn Skippy." Jack smiled. "Although, we're not doing a whole lot of sleeping."

Reba sat on the edge of the bed and slipped her heels on. "Yeah," She mumbled.

The affair had been going on for six months, about the time she stopped letting Brock near her. Even though she was mad at him and ripped him a new one every day, she still wouldn't allow herself to sleep with him. She thought it wouldn't be fair to him. Which was ridiculous because she was cheating on him. No matter how many times she tried to straighten her thoughts and justify her actions, everything got mixed up and she couldn't organize her emotions. There had never been another a time where she had been so confused. That was also why she had cried when he kissed her. She did love him and part of her regretted the affair. As soon as he found out, it would crush him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"We still on for tomorrow?" Jack asked, putting his hands behind his head as Reba stood to gather her purse.

"I don't know. I'll text you." She leaned over and gave him a kiss before running out.

The whole affair had started because Brock wouldn't pay any attention to her. Their first therapy session with Jack had resulted in him flirting with her and it all escalated from there. Jack noticed all the little things about her that Brock neglected to see and that was why Reba let it continue. She didn't love him, but it was nice to hear how beautiful she was and have someone place all their attention on her. It wasn't a feeling she wanted to end soon.

**xXx**

She arrived at her daughter's house with one minute to spare. When she knocked on the door, Van answered and announced she finally made it.

"The party can start!" He yelled as she walked in the living room. "Grandma's here!"

Elizabeth came running from the kitchen and jumped into Reba's arms.

"You came!" She squealed

"Of course I did." Reba kissed her forehead before setting her down. Cheyenne came in with the baby on her hip.

"Hi, Mom," She greeted, hugging Reba. "Are you wearing a new perfume?"

"No, why?"

"You smell different."

Reba's cheeks went red, knowing it was Jack's cologne, but Cheyenne seemed not to notice the oddity as she set Kasey in his play-pen. "Dinner's almost ready," Cheyenne announced, heading back into the kitchen. "Don't wander off."

Reba went and sat down by Brock on the couch. Or, she sat down on the same couch as Brock, as far away from him as possible, rather. Brock, Jake, and Van were playing some racing game on the Wii and it bored Reba to no end. She didn't get the concept of video games and she was always nagging Jake to stop playing them so much.

"Wanna come see my dollhouse?" Elizabeth asked, walking up to Reba with her hands behind her back.

Reba smiled, knowing the question was coming, and stood. "You bet I do."

The two went off to Elizabeth's room which was at the end of the hall and painted a beautiful lavender color. In the corner near the closet, was a three foot tall pink Barbie dream house.

"Wow, Lizzie. That's real nice."

Elizabeth unlatched the hook in front and opened it, showing Reba how big was. "It has three bedrooms and a kitchen and an elevator," Elizabeth explained, pointing to each room as she named them off. Reba knelt beside her.

"Your mommy always wanted one of these when she was your age," She said.

"Did you get her one?"

"Well, when she was seven, me and Grandpa didn't have a whole lot of money, so we couldn't afford one. But we got her a smaller version and she loved it just the same."

"How come you didn't have any money?" She picked up a Barbie with blonde hair and a pink dress and began to brush its hair.

"We were just starting out in life. We didn't have much until your mommy was about ten."

"I can't wait to be ten," Elizabeth said. "Older kids have more fun."

Reba smiled sadly. "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up. It's really no fun being a grown up."

"Yes, it is."

"How do you figure?"

She shrugged. "You get to play poker."

Reba laughed. "Me and Grandpa used to play poker a lot when we were younger." She sat back on her hands, crossing her ankles in front of her.

Elizabeth gasped and threw the Barbie across the room. "You have to finish the story!" She scooted closer to Reba and leaned her elbows on her knees, putting her chin in her hands.

By now, Reba knew what she meant and thought a second about where they had left off at the park yesterday.

"Alright," She said, remembering. "We didn't see each other for about a week…"

**xXx**

_June 1979_

Friday night was when all the kids went out to the drive-in movie theater. Reba always went with a couple girlfriends and tonight was no different. An old Western was playing and Roy Rogers was in it, so Reba was sure not going to miss it.

About halfway through the movie when the sky had darkened and everyone ran out of candy and soda, Reba offered to go get more during intermission. Four of the girls in the car had been gossiping and joking around the whole time, but Reba had actually been interested in the movie, and she wanted more snacks for the rest of the film.

With ten dollars in hand, Reba got out of her friend's car and weaved through the parked vehicles until she made it to the concession stand. The light of the enormous screen helped guide her to it. When she arrived, she placed her order then stood a few feet away while she waited.

"Reba?"

She turned to her left and saw a figure coming towards her. When the person came into the light, she saw that it was Brock. Her spirits brightened at the sight of him.

"Hey, Brock."

"What are you doing here?"

Brock realized what a stupid question that was and they both shared a laugh before Reba answered, "Just watchin' the movie."

Brock put his head down and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. It's a good one, huh?"

"Sure. I like Roy Rogers."

"Who doesn't?"

There was a silence between them before Brock said, "I'm here with my uncle. I didn't know this theater was even here."

Reba nodded, shifting her gaze to the screen every so often, as the movie had come back on. "It's been here for as long as I can remember. Since I was a baby, at least. Or longer."

"It's a cool idea."

"Do they not have drive-ins in Texas?"

"Not that I know of."

"That's too bad. I love a good movie."

Gunshots fired on the screen and screams resounded through the air. "Great speakers," Brock said with a smirk.

"Old speakers."

They both watched for a minute then the person who was running the concession announced that order number five, Reba's number, was ready. She excused herself from Brock for a second, paid for the food, then walked back over to him.

"Let me help you carry that," He said, taking the drinks from her before it all went crashing to the dirt.

They both began walking towards the car Reba had arrived in. "Listen," Brock said. Reba wasn't sure, but she detected a softness, a nervousness in his voice. "Would you like to go out to dinner sometime? I mean, I know there's not many places around here, but we could go into McAlester or something. Get pizza or…something."

"I'd love to." She tried to act cool, and she thought she played the part, but inside, she was screaming. She had never been on a date before, much less asked out. And by a college guy, at that! She couldn't wait to get back to the car to tell her friends.

"Great," Brock said. "How's tomorrow night?"

"I'm free."

"Cool. I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven?"

She nodded as they reached the car, but stood a ways away for a little privacy. If her friends saw her talking to a guy, they'd be hanging out the window, trying to hear every little word.

"I have to ask Mama and Daddy first."

"Oh. Right."

"But I'm sure it won't be a problem. And Mama will want to meet you. So, I'll see you at seven, then." She grabbed the drinks from him, making sure to swing her hips a little more than usual as she walked away. She figured she was getting good at the whole flirting thing.

**xXx**

_January 2007_

"Do they have drive-in movie theaters here now?" Elizabeth asked Reba as they walked out of her room after Cheyenne had called everyone to dinner.

"I don't think so, honey. But they sure were fun to go to." She put an arm around the girl's tiny shoulders. "If you ever get to go to Oklahoma with me when I visit Mama and Daddy, I'll take you."

"Ok!" She clasped her hands together and Reba wished she could go back to the time when the littlest things made her happy.

Everyone sat down to a lovely dinner that Cheyenne had prepared under Van's watchful eye and talked about various things such as work and school. Reba was angered that she had to sit next to Brock, and that his elbow kept touching hers. It was all she could do to not scream at him, which angered her more that the simplest things made her upset. Several times throughout the dinner, she almost got up and walked out. But, thankfully, half an hour later, the men and Jake had retreated to the living room and hooked up the Wii again while Reba helped Cheyenne clean up.

"You don't have to help, Mom. I've got it."

Reba waved her daughter off. "You cooked. It's the least I can do. Those lessons at the college really are helping, huh?"

Cheyenne nodded excitedly. "They are! Plus they're so fun! Who knew cooking could be fun?"

"I always told you it was. You never believed me."

That statement struck Cheyenne as odd. Her mother had been talking in a different tone and saying things she wouldn't normally say lately. When the two were in the kitchen after clearing the table and Cheyenne was loading the dishwasher, she brought it up.

"Is there something wrong, Mom?"

Reba looked up from wiping down the counters. "What do you mean?"

Cheyenne shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light. "You just seem a bit off, that's all. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Everything is okay, right?"

Reba shrugged. "I guess."

"I wasn't going to say anything, but when Elizabeth stayed the night last night, she said she heard you and Dad fighting after Dad put her to bed."

"Yeah."

"Have you been fighting a lot again?"

She shrugged again. "When do we not fight?" She threw the dishrag in the sink and leaned against the counter, folding her arms. "We fight when we get up in the morning until we go to sleep at night."

"Maybe you should try counseling again."

Reba scoffed, for more than one reason. "Counselors are good for nothing, don't understand a dad-gum thing, money seekers. They can't help because they don't know the whole story." She pushed off the counter. "Your dad and I are fine. It'll straighten itself out. It always does."

**xXx**

He had gotten a decent night's sleep and therefore was able to get up at seven o'clock and make it into the office by eight thirty. Him and Reba hardly talked after they had gotten home from Cheyenne and Van's. No surprise there.

Sitting in his office later that day, thinking over all the work he had to do and all the patients he had to see, all the problems at home, Barbra Jean knocked on his closed office door. He ran a hand over his face and told her to come on in.

The perky blonde strolled in holding a fast-food bag and a to-go cup. "I brought you lunch," She said, setting the stuff on his desk, next to a picture of his family that had been taken in 2000.

"Thanks, honey," He told her, immediately regretting the words. They felt criminal coming out of his mouth. Barbra Jean found nothing wrong with it and made her way behind him to rub his shoulders.

"Has she been giving you trouble again? She asked.

"It's not just her. It's the both of us."

"Since when are you on her side?"

He didn't answer, partly because he didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure which side he was on; his mistress's side or his wife's side. Or even his own side.

His affair was the result of a time when he felt weak and unworthy and helpless. Barbra Jean had been working late with him one afternoon and Brock was still feeling ill effects of a fight with Reba over some stupid thing. Barbra Jean was single, looking for a man as always, and Brock was fresh meat. Not to say that she was the only one at fault. Brock had let her take advantage of him because he felt feeble, and after it had happened, he suddenly felt like a man again. He began sleeping with Barbra Jean to regain that masculine feeling, the feeling of overpowering someone when Reba constantly shot him down.

"You want to…" Barbra Jean asked, leaving the rest of her sentence hanging as she kissed his neck.

"Not particularly." He didn't feel like doing anything today. Friday, when he had kissed his wife for the first time in six months, it had made all sorts of guilty feelings run through his heart. He was guilt-ridden at the fact that he was cheating on the woman he had promised and swore up and down that he'd stay faithful to and always be with. He had no idea why he didn't stop things with Barbra Jean and focus on fixing things with Reba.

That was a lie. He knew exactly why. He didn't want to feel alone. He knew Reba was the most stubborn person on the planet, and if she didn't want to do something, such as fix a marriage, nothing could make her do it. So, why didn't he break it off with her and just be with Barbra Jean? Because he loved her and no matter how much he hurt her, he couldn't just abandon her. He wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

Love was a crazy and confusing thing. He figured that out the first night he took Reba out.

**xXx**

"I'm home!"

No matter how many times he said that particular sentence, nobody ever really cared. Nobody came running to greet him like they did years ago. Used to, when he came home, Reba met him at the door and all three kids would come storming in, showering him with hugs. How he missed those days.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Jake doing homework at the table. The teenager had been quiet a lot lately. At least around his parents.

"Hey, bud."

"Mom said she's working late tonight."

Brock went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. "Okay. Thanks." He popped the top off, throwing it on the counter and taking a drink. "Did she say when she'd be home?"

Jake shook his head, not looking up from his binder and textbook.

"I'll text her, then." He whipped out his phone and sent a quick message, asking what time Reba would be getting home. "What are you up to?" He went and sat down by Jake.

"Just homework."

Brock glanced at the paper and saw a series of numbers, letters, and symbols. "Algebra?"

"Geometry."

"Ah. I had a time with that in school."

"Everybody in the class is failing."

"Even you?"

Jake nodded and Brock wondered how many other classes he had low grades in. He couldn't help but think it was because he was up all night listening to him and Reba fight.

"Just study every chance you can," Brock said, squeezing his son's shoulders. "You'll pick it up. I eventually did."

Jake didn't respond and Brock leaned back in his chair just as the phone in the kitchen rang. He jumped up and grabbed it off the hook.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Grandpa!"

"Lizzie, what's up?" He smiled when he heard his granddaughter's voice.

"I asked Mommy if I could call you."

"You did?"

"Mm-hmm." "Did you have a specific reason for calling?" He knew. She wanted to hear more of the story. He backed up against the counter and leaned against it, waiting for her answer. He couldn't help but let his mouth form a grin.

"Yes. I want to hear the rest of the story!"

"Make sure he's not busy," Brock heard Cheyenne say in the background, and before Elizabeth could ask, Brock said, "I'm not busy, honey."

"Okay! So, what happened next?"

"Well, let me see…"

"Wait! Grandma told me some last night!"

"What did she tell you?"

"Um…you asked her out for pizza at a drive-thru movie."

"A drive-in movie, yes. That I did. Okay, well, the next day…"

**R&R? (:**


	5. Chapter 5

_June 1979_

He had to borrow his uncle's beat up truck to pick Reba up that evening since his car was in Houston. There was no air-conditioning in the thing, but the windows did roll down, thankfully.

At seven o'clock on the dot, Brock was rumbling up her driveway, rocks and dust flying. He wasn't particularly nervous. He had taken girls out before and he'd had a girlfriend back in Houston. He had broken up with her before he left, so he wasn't cheating, but he was anxious about taking Reba out. It was so easy to be with her and talk to her. There was no uneasiness or tension whatsoever and he loved that.

Just as soon as he turned the motor off and got out of the truck, Reba came out of the house wearing a cute little sundress with her parents trailing out behind her. They waited on the porch as Brock approached.

"Evenin'," J.V. greeted.

Brock nodded as he climbed the steps, smelling Reba's perfume as he got closer to her. "How are ya?" He asked, shaking J.V.'s hand then Helen's, Reba's mother's, hand.

"Doin' just fine," J.V. said. Helen was quiet but smiled. Brock got the impression she was stuck up. He shrugged it off, though, when he turned to Reba and winked.

"Where are y'all headed?" J.V. questioned, putting his hands in his pockets of his Wranglers.

"Just to the pizza place out in McAlester," Brock responded. "That alright?"

"That's fine. Have her home by ten."

"Yes, sir."

"You be careful, Reba," Helen told her daughter, patting her on the back as she headed down the steps with Brock.

"I will, Mama. Bye, Daddy."

"Bye, darlin'." He waved then pointed at Brock. "Ten o'clock."

"Ten o'clock," Brock repeated, then got in his borrowed truck. Reba climbed in after him and shut her door as well. Then they were off.

"I'm sorry if that was awkward."

He waved her off. "Not at all. You look great, by the way."

She smoothed out her dress, blushing. "Thank you. You, too."

He laughed. "Don't start the evening off by lyin'. I been workin' all day."

"Well, so have I."

"It doesn't look like it."

She looked out the window and enjoyed just being near him. So crazy how they went from friends to maybe something more in just a short amount of time. She had known this summer was gonna be different from the day she graduated high school, and her hunch was turning out to be right.

On the way there, they talked about different things. Friends, hobbies and such. Reba found out so many new things about Brock, and vice versa.

Once they got to the restaurant, they were seated in a booth and the waitress took their orders.

"They have great food here," Reba told him as he looked around the small place.

"I bet. It smells great." He sniffed the air. "I'm glad we got sat by the kitchen."

"Everybody kind of does. There's not much seating." She swept her arm around the place. Only a few tables and booths.

"I guess that's true. You'd think it'd be bigger. It seems popular. The place is full." They listened to the chatter of people talking and laughing.

"They're always sayin' they're gonna expand it, but they never do. It's all talk."

"Well, what have we here?"

Brock's attention was drawn to a boy about Reba's age that had come up behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Reba jumped and looked up to see one of her old classmates, Rick Farmer. She grabbed his hand and shoved it off her shoulder.

"What do _you _want?" She asked, watching him as he slid into the booth next to her.

"Hey, now," Brock said.

Rick held up a hand and Reba looked at Brock, telling him with her eyes that she could handle it…for the moment.

"I thought I might run into you tonight," Rick said, putting an arm around Reba.

She shrugged out of his half-embrace. "Get out of here, Rick. Can't you see I'm tryin' to have supper?"

Rick, a boy with a leather jacket and slick-backed hair, extended his legs to the side, crossing his ankles. "Baby, I'm just tryin' to get you to see me and you are perfect together."

Reba shoved him away from her. "You're being stupid, and I do not want to be with you."

"Look, man, why don't you just go back to your table," Brock suggested.

"It's a free country," Rick said. "I can sit where I want."

"No, you can't," Reba said. "Get your ass outta this booth and get back to your own."

About that time, a blonde girl with a black mini-skirt and too much makeup came walking over.

"Ricky, where did you go?" She put out her bottom lip and put her hands on her hips.

"Just talking to an old friend." Rick stood and the girl wrapped herself around him, staring Reba down. "But the old friend has eyes for me."

"I do not!" Reba shouted.

"Okay," Brock said, holding up his hands. "That's enough. Just move along."

"I'm going, I'm going," Rick said. "But you better keep your slut girlfriend under control." They took off and the blonde gave them the finger. They left the restaurant and Brock turned to Reba.

"I'm sorry," She said, elbows on the table, her face buried in her hands. "He's always pestered me."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Brock told her. "He's just a jerk who disrespects women." He reached across the table and gently touched her arm. It was the first time he had touched her affectionately, and he felt his skin tingle. "It's alright. Don't let it ruin the night."

Reba looked up, her face red. "He's always on me to get together with him. I don't even understand. He switches girlfriends every other day. Why would he want me?"

"He thinks he could walk all over you, get you to do things you don't want to do."

"He's sorely mistaken."

"I figured that. If he ever bothers you again, you let me know, and I'll take care of it."

She smiled. "I will. Thank you. For standing up for me."

He shrugged and took her hand in his. "It's what a man should do."

They had a wonderful dinner that night, despite the earlier events, and Brock drove her home, arriving at five till ten. Reba thought he was the perfect gentleman when he opened her door for her and walked with her up to her porch. The lights were on in the living room and Brock hoped nobody was eavesdropping on them.

"So…" Brock said slowly as they approached the porch, but not walking up the steps.

"So…" Reba repeated, smiling, her hands clasped in front of her.

Brock thought she looked so innocent and had to force away certain thoughts before he spoke. "I hope you had a nice time tonight. Or even a half-good time."

"How about fantastic?"

"Fantastic works too." He grinned. "Would you like to go out again?"

"I don't see why not."

"Alright. We could go to the drive-in one night or something."

Reba thought a minute. "How about we don't?"

"Okay…"

"No! I do want to go out again, just…how about I take you horseback riding?"

"Horseback riding? I've never been."

"That's okay. I'll show you the ropes."

When he still looked nervous, Reba rolled her eyes with a smile. "Don't worry. Are you scared?"

"Just apprehensive. You told me all the horror stories."

She laughed, full on, which made Brock bust out laughing too. Her laughter was so contagious. "What?" He asked.

"Well, I'm not gonna take you bull-ridin'. Hell, you'd kill yourself! Riding a horse along a trail ain't gon' hurt ya none."

Brock grinned at her accent, wishing she'd never stop talking so he could just listen to it all the time. "Well, if you say so."

"I do. It'll be fun. An adventure. Horseback riding is very therapeutic. If I got something bothering me or on my mind, I'll go ride my horse and when I come back, everything's fine."

"I've heard people say that."

"It's true. So, just come over Friday afternoon or whatever, and we'll get out there."

He took a step towards her. "Will do. And I can't wait."

He lingered a moment, wondering if she was going to do the same. If she had just stayed for a second longer, he would have gone for a kiss but she backed away and started up the steps.

"Goodnight, Brock," She said at the door, turning slightly. The moonlight caught her eyes, making them sparkle.

"Goodnight, Reba."

**xXx**

_January 2007_

"Aw. Why didn't you kiss her?"

Brock chuckled. "I think her parents were watching."

"So? You kiss now."

How he wished that was true. "Well, we weren't married yet," He explained. "And her daddy would have been real angry."

"Oh. Well, what happened after that? Did you go ride the horses?"

"We did, but I'll let Grandma tell you that part of the story some other time." He heard Reba pulling up so he thought it best to get off the phone. He wanted to talk to her about therapy.

"Please tell it now?"

"I'd love to, but Grandma just got home, and I'm gonna go spend a little time with her."

"Okay," She said sadly.

"Alright. I love you, honey."

"I love you too, Grandpa."

"Bye, sweetie."

"Bye."

They hung up just as Reba walked through the door with her bag and an armful of folders. "Who was on the phone?" She asked as she dumped everything onto the counter.

"Oh, that was Elizabeth."

She didn't respond. She knew what the call had concerned and she had lived the story, so she didn't feel like hearing all about it.

"I told her you could tell the rest of the story," He said, trying to get her to talk to him. "It's cute how she's so interested."

"Adorable."

By this time, Jake was already packing up his homework, getting ready to go upstairs. He knew there would be a fight. There always was, and he didn't feel like listening to his parents' nonsense again.

Reba shrugged her jacket off and put it on the back of one of the chairs at the table before saying, "I guess _I'll _start dinner."

"I'll help you if you want."

Silently, she went to the refrigerator and opened it. "It would have been nice if you could have started cooking something. I used to have dinner on the table for you when you got home."

"Yeah, 'used' being the keyword. And I didn't know what you wanted."

She slammed the door shut. "The whole point of me texting to say I'd be late is for you to take some initiative and start dinner." She began walking towards the living room.

"So, are we not eating now?"

"There's nothing to cook!" She bounded up the stairs, leaving Brock in the kitchen wondering what in the hell was going through her mind. Why was she acting so insane?

Upstairs in her room, Reba was about to pull her hair out. She began pacing and muttering things to herself about how Brock was an immature child, always was and always will be. She didn't understand how he could be so juvenile. A man who used to mean the world to her, the man her world used to revolve around, was now just a roommate, like he had said. She was sad to say that, at this point, she didn't care if it worked out or not.

She flopped down on her bed, curling into a ball, and feeling as if her heart was about to beat right out of her chest. Her vision became blurred and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe slowly. It wasn't the first time one of their arguments had sent her into a panic attack, but she didn't like them just the same. They terrified her and she felt like she was going to die.

"If you're not going to cook," Brock said, barging into the bedroom. "What are we gonna do? Order takeo-?"

"Shut up!" She screamed, holding her hands over her ears.

Brock was taken aback. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

She sat up on the bed but promptly slid to the floor, her knees up by her chest, taking short, fast breaths. "I-I can-can't -reathe."

Brock rushed to her, kneeling down beside her and taking her wrists in his hands. "Look at me," He told her. "Look at my face." When she did, he noticed her eyes were bloodshot and her face was pale. "Take deep breaths. Don't stop breathing."

She kept gasping and tried to hit him and get out of his grip to get him to go away, but he stayed put after realizing what was happening. After a little coaxing, she stopped hyperventilating and the ache in her chest began to go away. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the end of the bed, Brock still holding onto her wrists.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I think it's over."

He began to stand up, intending on helping her stand as well and get to the bed but she shook her head. "Just leave me here."

"I'm not going to leave you on the floor."

"Please. Just leave me here."

He sighed before sitting back down beside her. "Alright, then. I'll sit here with you."

"No. I need to be alone." She tugged her wrists away and tucked them in her lap, bringing her knees up to her chest once more. "Just go," She mumbled.

Brock waited a second before realizing he'd better respect her request. After all, it was his fault she had felt like dying.

**xXx**

Work was one of her many escapes. That was why, after her breakdown the night before, she still went to work. She didn't feel a hundred percent, but the thought of being at home and knowing Brock was only working a half day and would arrive at the house at noon, was too much to deal with. After her breakdown, he had left her alone in her bedroom for about an hour before coming back with a cup of black coffee and an apology. The coffee did very little for her headache, as it wasn't a caffeine headache, but she drank it anyway in hopes he'd leave. He didn't. He sat there and read a book to her. One that she had sitting on her nightstand and hadn't started yet. His sudden and too-little too-late care got on her nerves. Only when he found that their marriage was in trouble did he begin to change. And it was utterly annoying.

At around two o'clock, she was tapping away at her computer, trying to file this and that, when a familiar voice brought her out of work-mode.

"Hey, Mrs. H."

She looked up to see her son-in-law wearing his usual dress shirt and sweater vest accompanied by his goofy smile. "What's crackin', homey?"

Reba froze her hands on the keyboard. "Come again?"

He stopped then sat down in the chair in front of her desk. "Um…what's going on, ma'am?"

She smiled. It felt odd there on her face. "Just trying to get some work done despite getting two hours of sleep last night." She yawned as she thought about how nice a nap would be right about now. "What are you doing here?"

"Eh, just checking out the competition."

"That's not fair to my firm, buddy."

"Simmer down, hellcat. I'm kidding. Just here to see how you are."

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. "How I am?"

He nodded, leaning forward on his knees. "You just seemed off the other night, is all."

"According to Cheyenne, I assume?"

He sighed. "She just wants to make sure you're feeling alright. She said you looked sad."

Reba rolled her head and groaned. "I am perfectly fine. I just had a stressful day at work and was feeling the effects of it is all." She stood and began walking towards the break room. Van followed.

"Are you sure that's all it was?" He came up behind her as she poured coffee into a mug.

"Never been more sure of anything else in my life." She slowly stirred in cream and sugar. She knew her kids knew her and Brock had been arguing a lot more lately. If nothing else, Jake had told them, plus when they came to visit, they were quarrelling most times. They had to be blind no to see it, but being what she thought was a good mother, she was not going to discuss her marital problems with her children. And that included Van.

"I know you're lying, but I also know how stubborn you are, so I'll let it be."

"Thank you." She turned around, mug in hand. "And even though it's none of your business, thank you for asking."

He shrugged. "Just doing my husbandly duties." He smiled. "So, you better come by the house sometime this next week." He began backing out of the break room.

"What for?"

"Elizabeth has been bugging me and Cheyenne to no end to call you up so you can tell her the ending to some story."

Reba smiled as he walked around the corner. A split second later, she was running after him, waving her hand for him to stop and to get back to her desk. She intended on writing Elizabeth the story in letter form. She didn't know if she'd be able to visit her granddaughter that week, and she knew how impatient the little girl was.

**xXx**

_June 1979_

"You're gonna end up on that horse backwards if you do it like that."

Brock lowered his right foot from the stirrup. "Okay…"

"Put your left foot in there, then swing your right leg over the horse's back," Reba instructed later that week when Brock came over to go horseback riding. She could tell he was a little scared and apprehensive, but it was cute to watch him pretend he wasn't.

He did as he was told and a moment later, Brock was sitting high atop an Appaloosa named Kelly.

"Grab onto the horn and the reins."

Brock did and said, "This is a large animal."

"Yes."

"Larger than me. It could kick me."

"Not from up there. She could buck you off, though, if you frighten her. In other words, don't poke her in the eye or kick her belly." Reba mounted her own horse; another Appaloosa named Baby. "Now, just click your tongue and she'll start walking."

They both clicked their tongues and began going down a trail near Reba's house. Reba was going to lead them to a stream where they'd let the horses rest before heading back home at dusk. It was about an hour and a half till then.

"She's not going to start running, is she?" Brock asked after a minute of riding. He was trailing behind Reba and Baby.

"Nope. There's no reason for her too. She'd run into Baby, and she's not fond of harming her kin."

"They're related?"

"They got the same daddy."

"Okay. Is that why they both have spots? Like leopards?"

"No. That's their breed. All Appaloosas have spots."

"Oh. Do you use these when you do the barrel racing and stuff?"

"Nope. We use our quarter horses, Blitz and Fin."

"Interesting names you give these horses."

"You think those are weird? I named my very first pony Mouse."

"Um…why?"

"I have no idea." She laughed. "I was four and it was the first name that popped into my head."

"I had a stuffed rabbit that I named Rabbit."

"You were an imaginative child."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Oh, no. Not at all." She looked over her shoulder and winked, which like to have killed Brock. He knew that with one simple look, he could go weak in the knees. Now, she didn't know that and it was good that she didn't; he was riding a very strong, muscular horse. If his knees went weak, he'd slide right off the thing.

"Where are we headed?" He asked. "Anywhere particular?"

"Just a little spot I ride to sometimes."

"Is it fun?"

"It can be."

"Will it be?"

"Why don't ya just hold your horses and wait till we get there?"

He smiled, amused by her irritation, and stopped asking questions. Instead, he admired the scenery and the wonderful knowledge that a beautiful person wanted to spend time with him.

A little while later, they rode into a clearing and the stream appeared. Brock thought it was a nice, quiet, peaceful spot, and he was glad she had taken him here. Perfect place to have some alone time to get to know each other without teenagers with BB guns and jerks with slicked back hair to bother them.

Reba dismounted her horse first and let the reins drop to the ground before going over to Brock. "Get off the same way you got on," She told him. "Swing your right leg over."

Brock did as he was told and Reba grabbed the reins. "Won't they run off?" He asked as she dropped the reins to the ground.

"Nope. They're trained to stay put." She walked over and sat on top of a large rock. "I probably should have packed a snack or something."

Brock went and sat next to her. "Eh, I'm not really hungry anyway." He thought a minute before he slipped his arm around her shoulders. She tensed and sat stone still for a moment before she relaxed and leaned into him. He smiled and wondered if she thought as highly of him as he thought of her.

"I'm sorry if I'm not doin' this right."

Brock looked over at her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I ain't never had a boyfriend before."

He laughed. "We're boyfriend and girlfriend?"

She looked up, baffled. "You took me out, didn't ya?"

"I did."

"Well, then…"

He smiled at her old-fashioned ways. "You're doin' just fine."

"If I start getting on your nerves or something, tell me, alright?"

"You're not getting on my nerves." His arm slid from her shoulder to around her waist, resting his hand on her hip.

She had never had anyone express any interest in her except Rick, so Brock's kind nature and endless respect made her comfortable. Not what she felt with Rick. Rick was…a dick.

"You know you're not my first girlfriend, right?"

She nodded. "I figured as much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a college guy. You've probably had bunches of girlfriends."

He knew she didn't mean it that way, so he let it go. "Just two. Serious ones anyway."

"You can have a non-serious girlfriend?"

"Yes. One that's just around for…fun."

She didn't fully understand what he meant, but it made her nervous. "Is that what I'm here for?"

"Of course not. I respect you and I want to get to know you. You're not just some toy to me."

She looked up at him. "Well, good. I ain't nobody's toy."

He smiled. She was so different. So unlike anyone else he had ever met. She wasn't corrupted by the world, and even though that made her ignorant, Brock preferred the word 'innocent.'

They talked and talked for the longest time, just sitting there together. After awhile, she even laid her head on his shoulder, yawning as she did so. "It's getting dark," She mumbled.

He hadn't even noticed. But sure enough, the sun was setting and they'd have to leave soon if they were going to have enough light to be able to see the path back home.

"Yeah. Think we better get goin'."

"I suppose…" Even though she would have rather stayed in his arms for the rest of her life or at least the rest of the day, she hoisted herself up and dusted off her jeans.

They both mounted their horses and began the ride back to Reba's place. On the way back, Brock discovered she had been right: the ride was therapeutic and calming. It left him to get his thoughts in order. Thoughts about his life and he wondered if she could fit into it.

By the time they returned, it was dark. The front porch light was on, Reba noticed, as well as the living room light. It illuminated a small part of the yard, and Reba figured her mother was up reading, waiting for her daughter to get home as it was past dinnertime. The door to the barn was still open, though, and Reba found that odd. Usually, her daddy would lock it up when he was done working. And he should have been done long before sun-down.

The two rode up to the large, red building and dismounted at the doorway. Reba saw that Brock was handling Kelly fine, holding her reins and such, as he led her along like Reba did with Baby.

"We're back, Daddy!" Reba yelled, squinting in the barn's dim light. She led Baby to her stall and took off the saddle before setting it on the ground and doing the same to Kelly. Saddling up and down took a while and fifteen minutes later, the two got the horses into the stalls and were lugging the saddles into the tack room.

"This thing weigh a ton," Brock grunted.

Reba laughed. "You get used to it."

"I don't see how you do it. I weigh fifty pounds more than you do, and you're doing just fine. I'm about to have a heart attack."

"Oh, hush up, ya big baby." She shook her head and laughed. "Do you complain this much at your uncle's?"

"He doesn't have horses."

"That doesn't answer my question. I know the man's got cattle."

"Eh. I just do my job."

"Save the bitchin' for me. I gotcha." She looked back and winked, and again, Brock almost fell to the floor with the saddle on top of him.

They turned the corner and entered the tack room. Brock was behind Reba, so when she gasped, he didn't see what the problem was right away. She quickly put the saddle on the wall and dropped to her knees in the corner where her father sat against the wall. Brock hoisted his saddle beside the one Reba put up and knelt down as well.

"What's wrong?" He asked, watching Reba take his pulse.

"I don't know." She sounded frantic, and rightly so. "His pulse is real weak. Daddy are you okay?"

J.V. was clutching his chest and nodding his head. "Yeah. I'm fine." His breaths were coming short and fast.

"We gotta get him to the hospital," Brock said, ignoring his lack of concern. "He may have had a heart attack."

Reba shook her head. "No, just take him to the house. He won't want to go to the hospital. Do you think you and me can lift him?"

"Reba. Listen to me, he has to go to the hospital. If it is a heart attack, which I think it is, he needs medical attention."

"But he won't like it-"

"Stop. Go get your mother, and call 911. Now. I'll stay with him."

His stern voice brought tears to her eyes. She wiped her eyes before any could fall as she stood and ran off, leaving her daddy behind. It wasn't his harsh words that made her the tears come, it was his concern for her father that made her want to sob.

While she alerted her mother, Brock calmly spoke to J.V. "We're gonna get an ambulance out here, alright?"

"I don't need one. I'm fine."

Brock shook his head. He knew that entering the medical field would be frustrating, but this was his first lesson in it. "You're having a heart attack. Your heart is dying. Once it dies, it can't be brought back to life. You could die, okay?"

J.V. still wanted nothing of it. He thought that he was a big, strong man and that nothing could touch him. It wasn't that he was vain, he was just brought up that way. That nothing could hurt him and that he could never appear to be weak. He had to stay invincible.

"Just take deep breaths," Brock told him. "You gotta stay with me. For Helen and Reba, okay? They're coming."

J.V. clutched Brock's arm and Brock willed him to hold on just a few minutes longer. He wished he had some aspirin so J.V. could chew it up and slow the effects of the attack, but he didn't. For only the second time in his life, he prayed. He prayed that Reba's daddy would be okay. He knew how much she adored him, and it would break her completely in two if she lost him. Brock couldn't bear to watch her fall apart.

For what seemed like hours, Brock kept talking to J.V. Telling him that the ambulance was on their way. He was getting weaker and weaker and Brock thought that he was fixing to pass out when he heard footsteps and Reba's voice. That's when he realized that only two minutes had elapsed.

"The ambulance is on its way," She said, entering the tack room, Helen trailing in behind. Brock moved to the side so the women could kneel down as well.

Helen offered loving words to her husband, but Reba stayed silent. She just held onto her daddy's hand and begged God to let him be okay.

When the ambulance's sirens blared in the driveway, Brock ran out and came back with them and a stretcher just seconds later.

"Mr. McKinney," One of the EMT's said. "We're going to get you into the ambulance, alright? Just stay with us. Can you tell me what day it is?"

"Friday," J.V. managed to gasp as they hoisted him up onto the stretcher.

The EMT's kept asking questions, making sure he was alert, as they put him in the back of the ambulance. Helen went with him, worry plastered on her face, eyes brimming with tears.

"I'll bring Reba by," Brock assured her just as they were about to close the doors.

"Thank you," Helen said. "For everything."

The EMT in charge slammed the doors, jumped in the passenger's seat and the ambulance began its deafening play of the siren before speeding away. Brock stood there in the entrance of the barn with Reba, watching the tail-lights fade into the dark. She still didn't talk, and more importantly, didn't cry.


	6. Chapter 6

_January 2007_

That day she really did have to work late. Until six o'clock, in fact. When she finally finished all the extra filing, she packed up, told her boss she was leaving and walked out to the parking lot which was empty except for her car and a black truck. Immediately she knew that it was Jack's truck. It had a dent in the bumper. But even if the dent hadn't been there, she would have known the truck's owner; Jack was leaning against she passenger door, apparently waiting for her.

When she walked up, he spoke. "I've been waiting out here for quite awhile."

She unlocked her car and piled her bags into the backseat. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was going to have to work late until I tried to leave at five."

"It's fine. It's not like we had anything planned today."

She shut the door and turned around. "No. So, is there something wrong?" She folded her arms, getting cold from the wind even though she had her black, furry coat on.

"Not that I know of. I was just missing you." He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. "It's been a few days." He brushed her hair out of her face that the wind had messed up.

"I know. I'm sorry. I've just been so busy." She put her hands on his shoulders, sighing as she did so. "Forgive me?"

"How could I not?" He kissed her. She allowed it to go on for a moment before pulling away.

"We shouldn't. Not here. Not in public."

He looked around the empty lot, then to the street. The air was gloomy from the gray sky. "Why? Nobody here that I know." He went to kiss her again, but she put her hand over his mouth before he could touch hers.

"Yes, but there's people that I know. My boss could come out any minute." She backed out of his grip and straightened her coat. "In public, we don't know each other."

He groaned and rolled his head. "It's been two weeks since we've really done anything. Why don't we go to the motel again?"

She shook her head. "I have to get home, anyway." She dangled her keys in front of him. "Remember? I can't be doing anything suspicious like 'working late' every day." She used air quotes to make her point.

"What's the point of this whole thing if sex isn't involved?"

"It's not just about sex, Jack. If that's what you think, then maybe I wasn't clear when I started this thing. Whatever it is."

"What's it about, then?"

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "It's about actually having someone to go to and talk to when no one else pays attention."

"Then why have we been sneaking around? That's not cheating. If that's what you want this relationship to be about, come see me as a therapist."

"Stop being so shallow."

"Stop being difficult! I'd like to benefit from this, too, ya know."

Reba took a step back. "Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean it that way."

"You didn't think twice before you said it."

"Reba-"

"Is that all you see me as? Your whore?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Then what am I?"

"You're my friend, Reba." "Your friend? That's all I am to you?" She knew it was a lie. He had been using her all this time. In her heart of hearts she knew that's what was happening, but she cared for him so much that she didn't want to believe it. But now, it was hard to believe a lie when the truth was snapping its fingers right under her nose.

"What do you see me as? Your husband?"

"No. I have a husband."

"Then maybe you should go home to him. Obviously this shouldn't have happened. All it's done is cause more problems." He began to walk to the driver's side of his truck.

"Yeah," Reba shouted. "You'll leave 'cause you know you can have any woman you want! Just go down to the street corner and pick you up another slut, huh? 'Cause that's all I am, right?"

He stopped before he got in. "You said it, not me." Then he got in and gunned the engine, roaring out of the parking lot, leaving Reba standing there in disbelief.

When she got home that evening, she didn't go inside the house. Instead, she dropped her belongings onto the swing on the porch and sat down as Jack's words played back in her head. _"It's been two weeks since we've really done anything." _It made her want to vomit everywhere. The puzzle pieces began to connect and the reason for her mood swings and frazzled thoughts suddenly had meaning.

She knew how careful they had been. She _knew_. She made him wear protection every single time. It was as if she was that stupid seventeen year old all over again. Condoms weren't a hundred percent effective. She knew that, but somehow, some way, in all the sneaking around and lying, that thought didn't cross her mind. She had been focused on herself and doing what she wanted, never once thinking that maybe her actions could cause even more problems.

There was one thing that didn't make sense, though. When things were half-way fine between her and Brock, they slept together several times a month and they had never used protection. She wasn't on the pill, he never wore a condom. They simply…did It. She figured she just wasn't fertile anymore. Little did she know it was Brock that wasn't.

But pregnant at forty-five? With a baby that wasn't her husband's? If she didn't feel like Jack's whore before, she sure did now.

She weighed her options: She could have an abortion, she could tell Jack about the baby and they'd run off together, she'd tell Brock that she cheated and divorce him, or she'd do It with Brock and then tell him it was his baby.

Option two was out of the question. She pretty much didn't want anything else to do with Jack. That wasn't the first time he had hurt her, and she didn't know if she wanted to go back.

_This is ridiculous_, she thought. _He's not your husband. Stop thinking about him like that! You don't need to go 'back' to him. You were never together._

She figured she'd wait and see if her period came. She wouldn't take a pregnancy test. She didn't want that certainty staring her down if it ended up positive.

She leaned forward on her knees and buried her face in her hands. This was not only bad, this was horrible. There was no way her marriage was to survive this. No way. Brock would never forgive her. And rightly so. She didn't plan for it to go this far. Never in a million years.

A moment later, the front door opened and Brock stepped out, the porch light flickering on.

"I thought I heard your car pull up." He shut the door. "Why are you out here? Aren't you cold?"

She shrugged, sitting upright. She slouched there on the porch swing, wondering where to go from here. Glancing up, she saw the face of the man that she had vowed to stand by for better or worse. Without giving it a second thought, she had broken that vow in the blink of an eye. Amazing how something so simple can suddenly turn into a train wreck.

"Well," Brock said, moving her bags to the side before sitting beside her. "At least you have your coat." He held his hands in his lap, nervous to put his arm around her. He didn't know how she'd react. Little did he know, Reba was about to have another breakdown. The hurt of Jack abandoning her, using her, finding out she might be pregnant, and last night's panic attack had taken its toll on her. As much as she didn't want to let Brock see her cry, she just couldn't hold the tears in any longer. One rolled down her cheek, then another and another, until she was sobbing silently. She turned her head so maybe he wouldn't see her, but he wasn't stupid.

"Are you okay?" He asked after a minute.

She shook her head. Nothing was okay, and she doubted it ever would be.

"Did something happen at work?"

Again, she shook her head. She wanted to tell him the truth about her affair and how sorry she was, but her pride wouldn't let her. She wasn't going to let him know she was in the wrong more than he thought she was.

"Then what's wrong? People don't cry for no reason."

"Everything." Her voice cracked as she said it. Her throat began to ache as more tears fell. The night was quiet and all you could hear was her sniffling and heavy breathing as she tried to control her sobs.

"Anything in particular?"

She shook her head, finally able to reach down deep and pull out some strength to stop the tears. She wiped her eyes and cheeks and sighed. "I'm fine."

Brock didn't believe a word of it, but knew that when she decided something, no one could change her mind. "You know I'm here if you want to talk."

She still had her head turned. She couldn't face him. Not yet. She couldn't look at his face, into his eyes. She knew how much he loved her, no matter how many mistakes he had made or how many times he had hurt her. True love never goes away, and that was what they had. But she knew all too well that even though you have love, you can't run a marriage on it. You may love someone till the day you die, but that doesn't mean you can live with them.

In those moments when neither spoke, she thought of divorce. Would it bring closure? Would it make her feel better knowing that she was no longer around to hurt him? Would it make her feel better that he wasn't always hurting her? Would it be right to break up their family? Would it be right to have Jack always in the picture because of his baby? She just didn't know.

**xXx**

Brock slept with Barbra Jean in his office the next week after a morning fight with Reba. He knew it was wrong, but that didn't stop him. The guilt didn't stop him, either. He shoved Reba's memory out of his mind and focused on Barbra Jean. When they were finished and Brock sat alone in his office, he stared at a picture of Reba that was on his desk. After a moment, he pushed it face-down onto the wood. He loved her with his whole heart, but she kept harming his self-esteem. No, she didn't tell him he was a worthless piece of shit, but she wouldn't let him do things for her anymore. Whenever there was a jar she couldn't open, she didn't go to him, she simply put the jar away and walked off. Whenever the car needed repairing, she didn't go to him, she went to the mechanic. It was simple things that hurt him the most. But Barbra Jean? She needed him to function.

He ran his hands over his face. What needed to happen next? He had to either stop things with Barbra Jean or divorce Reba. This double life he was leading was stressing him out. He needed to be able to work and be a father to the one child that was still at home. Something had to change. He just wished he knew what.

Deep down he wondered if loving Reba even mattered in this situation. Yeah, he'd always love her, but what did that mean? He needed to figure that out. It was hindering his decision-making process.

**xXx**

For years, like every woman, she never anticipated her period to come. When the tell-tale signs arrived, she'd groan and cuss, pissed off that another sucky week was headed her way. But now, she couldn't wait for it to get here. She waited for it. Waited and waited and waited. But it never came. That was when she knew. She was pregnant with Jack Morgan's child.

She had thrown a huge fit when week three had passed. She hadn't had her period in four weeks and when it didn't come that fifth week, she knew. She knew like she knew her own name.

Thankfully, she had been home alone when she had given up guessing and coming up with possible reasons for her late cycle and took a pregnancy test. It had a pink plus sign appear when the three minutes were up, and she threw the test at the wall before sinking to the floor. She didn't know whether to love her baby or hate all it was about. It was about to cause her so much grief and pain.

She shook those thoughts away. It was her _baby_, no matter who the father was.

Kicking the bathroom cabinet and cracking the wood, she started to cry, rolling into a ball up against the bath tub. The rug felt rough against her cheek as her tears soaked it.

She curled her hand over her stomach. "I'm so sorry," She whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." The tears fell faster and she was crying so hard her whole body shook.

She cursed Jack. She cursed herself. She cursed her life. She was right on the edge, and she wondered how much farther she could go before she fell off.

**xXx**

Cheyenne was reluctant to let Elizabeth go to lunch with Brock, as she was all hyped up for some reason, but Brock insisted. "I can handle her," He assured his daughter as Elizabeth jumped all around them. "I handled you when you did this."

The three stood just inside Cheyenne's door. "Dad, I don't want you to feel like you have to. I know you've had a long week. Do lunch another time."

"_Mom_," Elizabeth groaned.

"I'm fine," Brock said, shrugging. "I feel fine. Nothing a nap afterwards won't fix."

Cheyenne knew something wasn't right. Her parents had been acting odd around one another lately, and Reba had been acting off around everyone. Brock, on the other hand, pretended everything was just peachy.

"Okay," Cheyenne said slowly. "Just call me if you need to."

Brock opened the door and Elizabeth sprinted towards the car. "I will," He assured her. "But I won't need to. She's just like her mother, and I could handle her mother just fine." He winked and said he'd bring her back in a few hours.

"Say hi to Mom for me," Cheyenne called after them. Brock waved a hand, letting her know he heard her then got in the car with Elizabeth.

"So," He said as they got going down the road, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

"Burger King!"

"Lunch at Burger King? How about Pizza Parlour?"

"Okay!"

The little girl would have eaten seaweed, Brock figured, as long as she got to hear some of the story.

"I'm guessing you're waiting with bated breath for the story," Brock said, eyes on the road.

"What?"

"You're excited about the story?"

"Oh, yes! Tell me some more?"

"Well, alright. Where did we leave off? Riding the horses?"

"No. Grandma wrote me a letter and told me more. Her daddy had a heart attack and almost died!"

Brock remembered the day just like it was yesterday. "That was a scary day. Grandma was real afraid she was going to lose her daddy, but I stayed with her…"

**xXx**

_June 1979_

The smell of the hospital was strong. It was that of rubbing alcohol and the basement cafeteria. There were few people in the third floor waiting room at eleven o'clock at night. Brock and Reba were the only ones. They sat in front of a large window in vinyl green chairs with wooden arm rests. A coffee table with several magazines set before them, but neither one felt like reading, even though they had done nothing but sit for three hours.

"You'd think somebody would have come out by now," Reba said, breaking the horrible silence. The fluorescent lights glowed brightly in the space, illuminating a dark world.

"They'll be out soon, I bet," Brock told her. He hated seeing her like that: hunched over in her chair, eyes bloodshot from crying in the ladies' room, probably starving from not having eaten dinner, worrying over the probability that her father might die.

"I just can't believe it, you know? He's so strong-willed and I thought nothing could ever hurt him. He's my daddy, the strongest man that ever lived. How can he be laying on that table while they cut him open, just helpless? He used to tell me that no matter how many bad things happen, you gotta dig down deep and find the strength to get through it. Failure is not an option. But how can he do that when he can't even sit up by hisself?"

Brock placed a hand on her back and rubbed gently. "If he's even half the man I think he is, he'll make it. He's too stubborn to let go."

"You think?"

"I'm positive. So, don't worry about a single solitary thing. Those doctors are professionals. They know how to handle a situation, even if it goes bad."

She looked at him. "But what if they mess up?"

He lifted her chin. "Everything happens for a reason. Do you believe that?" She nodded. "Okay. Then no matter what happens, promise me that you won't give up. Even if he loses this battle, I want you to know he fought to the end, and you have to fight, too. Set an example for when you have children of your own." Of our own, he added silently. "What if something was to happen to you later on down the road? Would you want your children to break down and hurt because of you?"

"No."

"Exactly. He wouldn't want that, either. So stay strong for him, and stay strong for yourself. But he'll be okay, so there's nothing to worry about." He smiled, hoping he had calmed her down at least a little bit.

"Miss McKinney?"

Reba and Brock looked up to see a nurse standing before them. "Yes?" Reba answered, pulling herself to her feet. "Is my daddy going to be okay?" Brock stood up as well, positioning himself beside Reba.

"He just got out of surgery," The nurse explained. "They had to repair a broken valve in his heart. He's in recovery now, so you can see him if you'd like. Just be quiet and calm."

Reba didn't even wait for the nurse to tell her which room, she just took off in the direction in which the nurse had come, though Brock asked for the room number and ran after Reba.

Down the hall a ways was room number 319. The door was ajar and the lights in the hallway were dim. Reba pushed open the door and Brock followed.

"Daddy?"

J.V. slowly looked over and Reba rushed to him. Helen was sitting by her husband near a large window. Outside you could see the parking lot with people coming in and out. Reba briefly wondered how life could go on when her daddy couldn't hardly move.

"Are you okay?" Reba grabbed his hand, kneeling beside him.

"I'm okay, Foxy." He patted her hand with his free one.

"I was so worried. You were just laying there and-"

"Reba." Helen's look was frighteningly hollow. There was nothing in her eyes except hurt and despair. Thoughts of running the ranch on her own ran through her head.

Reba put her head down, embarrassed that she spoke before she thought. "You'll be just fine," Reba said after a moment, looking up at her father. "'Cause you're strong, Daddy. Stronger than Superman, even."

"Cowboys keep getting right back up," He said weakly, then laughed. "I'm just wonderin' how many times I'm gon' keep getting back up 'fore I can't anymore."

"You'll always be able to get back up. Don't let your stubborness go away now."

"Now you know where you get it from."

"I always knew. We're a lot alike. That's how I know you're gon' make it. I wouldn't give up, and I know you won't. Just when you feel like you can't go anymore, give it all you've got and push a little harder. That's what you used to tell me when I was barrel racin'."

"I remember. I guess it's easier to talk the talk, though."

She almost cried. Almost. But she wouldn't let herself. This was the most open her daddy had ever been, and it scared her. He was suddenly James Vance McKinney, not Daddy, and he had feelings and emotions, not a stone-still face and barrier-breaking attitude. But she realized she loved James Vance McKinney just as much as she loved Daddy. She loved him because he was himself, not because he was her daddy and she had to. She just hated that it took all this for her to recognize it.

"Is the boy here?" J.V. said in a stronger voice.

Reba looked over her shoulder. "Yep, he's here."

Brock took a few steps forward, putting his hands in his pockets and running a hand through his disheveled hair. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

J.V. nodded. "Been better."

Brock noticed that there was still a twinkle of life in his eye. He was a fighter with the will to live. "I think your heart is stronger than everybody was thinking." He chuckled.

"They said no more fried foods. Need to lower my cholesterol." Rolling his eyes, J.V. looked toward Helen. "Ask them about fried chicken."

"Daddy, you'll need to get on a strict diet," Reba told him. "No more bacon and eggs fried in grease. And no more biscuits and coffee. It's too bad for your heart, and it'll clog your arteries."

"I've eat that all my life," He argued. "Ain't a dern thing wrong with it."

"You're furthering her point," Brock said with a smile. "Healthy foods won't be that bad. You can even grow your own food."

"I do grow my own food. Their names are Bessie and Betty. They're black and white and live in the barn."

"J.V.," Helen said with an exasperated sigh. "Just listen to the doctors for once, please? You heard what they said. You get a clogged artery in your leg, that'll be it. No second chances."

"Some piddly little doctor from Harvard that don't know a thing about life in Oklahoma, gon' tell a cowboy he can't eat breakfast. That ain't right. It's crooked. That's why I didn't want to come here."

"Daddy, you can eat breakfast, it just can't be dripping with bacon fat. Have a grapefruit with a glass of milk."

"And that's supposed to last me until lunch?"

"And for lunch you can have a nice salad with lemon dressing," Brock told him. "I'm learning a lot about dietary needs in my nutrition class."

"A lemon dressing?" J.V. asked.

"Not even that. Just a spritz of lemon juice."

J.V. was not amused. He rolled his eyes in disbelief and looked at his wife. "What's for dinner? Carrots and celery? Rabbit food?"

"I'm sure the doctor will send you home a menu of appropriate meals," Reba told him. "But your main focus is getting better, right?"

"Mostly," J.V. said. "That and when they're going to bring supper up."

"It's almost midnight," Brock pointed out, motioning towards the clock on the wall near the television.

"Oh. Then get on out of here, so I can get to bed."

Reba smiled and patted his hand. "Alright. Sleep well." She kissed his forehead. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Foxy."

Brock and Reba exited quietly, and pulled the door to as they walked back to the waiting room.

"Want me to take you home?" Brock asked, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

"Nope." Reba sat back down in the same chair she had occupied before. "I'm staying here in case they need me."

Brock chuckled, not sitting down just yet. "I'm sure the doctors can handle it."

Reba shot him a look and he raised his eyebrows, taking a seat beside her. "Okay. Spending the night here, I guess."

Reba sat back and put her feet up on the coffee table. "You don't have to stay here. I'm fine by myself."

He shrugged and did the same. "I don't have anywhere else to be."

Reba looked over at him. "Won't your uncle be mad?"

"I'm twenty-one. I don't really have a curfew."

"Oh." She looked straight ahead again. "Right."

"I used to, though," He said, scooting down in his seat. "Hated it. When I was seventeen, my curfew was ten o'clock. All my friends made fun of me for it because some of them got to stay out till after midnight. I was always teased in school for being the smart kid. Then, trying to shed that image, in high school I became the 'bad boy', if you will. But trying to be a badass isn't easy when your mom drops you off at the movies and you have to leave early because it's a late showing so you won't break your curfew. There's so many movies I haven't seen the ending to because of that ridiculous rule.

"But I love my Mom. One thing I wish she would have done is beat me upside the head when she caught me with a pack of Marlboros, though. Now I got this horrible habit that I just can't seem to break, you know?" He looked to his left for an answer but saw that Reba was passed out asleep. Her head cocked to the side, a tiny smile on her face.

Brock smiled right along with her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to him so she could lay her head on his shoulder. She stirred when she was moved but a second later, rested comfortably against him, the smile never leaving her face. And that was how they both slept until the next morning.


	7. Chapter 7

_February 2007_

The erratic breathing died down soon after the deed was done. A mere two days after accepting the fact she was pregnant with Jack's child, she called him and told him she missed him. She made no mention of the baby, however. She honestly did just miss him. Brock had still been acting distant, and although he stopped asking her to go to therapy, he apparently felt like he had to keep on keeping on with his stupidity.

"I'm sorry about that fight," Jack said after a minute, shifting in the bed. They had rented out a room at a Motel 8, as always.

"Just forget about it." She turned towards him, pulling the sheet closer to her chest. "It's in the past."

He kissed her forehead. "Okay. But just so you know, I wasn't with anyone else while we were apart."

"Good to know you aren't double cheating."

"So are we a couple, now? It's possible to cheat?"

She shrugged, and he left it at that. She heard people walking by the window outside and the glow from the lights in the parking lot shone through the small crack the drapes didn't cover. It was freezing cold in the room, like most motels, and the bedspread was itchy.

"What would you say if I were to tell you I'm thinking about getting divorce papers drawn up?" Reba asked as Jack scrolled through his phone.

"If that's what you want to do," He said, not looking at her. "I'm behind you." He looked over. "Figuratively, of course, but literally if you want to." He winked and she sighed, wishing he wouldn't associate everything with sex.

"I'm not sure if it's what I want. Yet."

"But in the future?"

"I don't know. If so, why prolong it?"

He didn't answer, getting the feeling she just needed to hear her own voice and get the answers out there for herself.

"I'm just afraid to take that first step. I mean, we've been together for almost thirty years." She rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. "God, I'm old. Too old. For so many reasons." She glanced at him. "Would we stay together if I went through with it?"

He scooted closer to her, leaning over her body. "I don't know. Would you want to?"

"Maybe…"

"Do you love me?"

"Well, not yet, no. Do you love me?"

"My answer would have to be the same, but I'm heading in that direction. Who could be around you and not fall in love with you?"

She sighed, taking everything in, and knowing she'd have to make a decision one way or the other.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"We've pretty much shared everything. I'm sure it wouldn't be that personal, so sure. Shoot."

"How come you and Cheryl never had kids? Was it because one of you couldn't?"

"We were both fine, and Cheryl had a son from her first marriage, but I never felt the need to have kids. To be honest, I'm not fond of them. Why?"

"Just curious. I have kids, you know."

"Not babies."

Her stomach lurched, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was the baby or just nerves. "Well, all kids are babies at some point. They do grow up."

"Yeah, but they're such a hassle when they're little. So loud, and they require tons of attention. I babysat my sister's daughter when she was six months old and it was a complete nightmare."

"Oh."

He stared at her. "You seem to have a reason for your question."

"No. None at all. Just a random thought."

If it had been Brock, he would have pestered and pestered until he got her reasons out of her so he could help solve the issue. So, the thing that bothered her the most was that Jack believed her.

She left the motel soon after that, and arrived home at six o'clock. Brock was sitting at the table eating a sandwich and reading a book, but Jake was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Jake?" She set her stuff on the counter.

"Some party," Brock replied, not looking up from his book. "I made you a sandwich." He nodded towards a plate beside him.

"What party?"

"Some friend's party."

"What friend?"

He put his book down and looked up with a frustrated look. "I don't know."

"You just let him go off without knowing who he's with or where he is?"

"He's a good kid, Reba. It's not like he's in a club or anything."

"A friend's house can be just as bad. There could be alcohol and drugs and sex."

"He'll be fine."

"And peer pressure, Brock. Did you ever think about that?"

"Yes, I did. I trust him. Don't you?"

"It's other people I don't trust." She began digging around in her purse for her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Ricky's mom and seeing if he's over there."

"And if he's not?"

"Then I'll get out the phonebook and call all his friends."

Brock shook his head, going back to his book. "You are just like my mother."

"You know, Brock, even when you acted like your father, I never insulted you that way." She looked up. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That smell."

He stopped and sniffed the air. "I don't smell anything."

"No… It's…peanut butter."

"I had peanut butter on my sandwich…"

She covered her mouth, ready to throw up. The smell of the peanut butter made her terribly nauseous. Just another sign of pregnancy. "My God, throw it out." She held her stomach and fought back gag reflexes.

"I'm trying to eat it."

"Throw. It. Out. I'm going to puke." She moved towards the trash can. "I'm serious."

"I'm not going to waste it."

Reba glared at him and stepped towards the table, picked up his sandwich, went to the backdoor, and tossed it into the yard as far is it could go. She slammed the door before waltzing out of the kitchen to head to the bathroom.

"Couldn't you have just left in the first place?" Brock yelled after her.

Upstairs, she leaned over the toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach. Brock walked in a second later, only to take a large step back.

"_Oh!_" He frowned and thought before going to her and pulling her hair back. "You okay?"

She didn't answer. Her head was too far in the bowl.

"Guess not…"

He stayed with her until she slumped to the floor, too drained to move. Quickly, he got her a wet washcloth and scooped her up, carrying her to the bed before laying the washcloth on her forehead.

"Just rest, okay?" He pulled the covers over her after taking her shoes off. Reba's mind was spinning. She knew Brock was helping her, but her body ached too much to fully recognize it. She just nodded as he kissed the top of her head, then walked out. She fell asleep soon after that, absentmindedly clutching her belly, praying her child wouldn't cause that to happen again.

She awoke some time later to someone shaking her. Groggily, she opened her eyes and moved her head to the left to see a wide-eyed Elizabeth holding an envelope.

"Hi, Grandma."

Reba sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before running her hand through her hair. "Hi, darlin'."

Elizabeth promptly bounced up on the bed, crawling over Reba's legs and onto Brock's side, sitting Indian-style waving the envelope around.

"What are you doin' here?" Reba asked, turning on her side, hands under her head.

"Daddy's helping Grandpa fix his car."

Reba nodded, recalling Brock saying the transmission was acting up. "Is your Mom here?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "She's at home with Kasey. He's sick."

"And I'm guessing you came along to hear more of the story?"

She nodded excitedly, her curly pigtails bouncing as she did so. "Or if you want to write it again, I brought another envelope." She held it out, but Reba said, "I'll just tell you. I'm not feeling too good to write, honey."

"Are you sick, too?"

"Not like Kasey is sick. Just feeling kind of…blah."

"Blah." She giggled and Reba smiled, trying not to throw up again. She was right on the verge, and she wished Elizabeth would stop bouncing around.

"Alright," She finally said. "Where did we leave off?"

"Grandpa and you fell asleep at the hospital."

"Right…"

**xXx**

_June 1979_

Reba was up in her room a week after the scare with her daddy. She had spent nearly every day with Brock during his recuperation. Not to say she wasn't there when her daddy needed her. She was. She was just with Brock a lot, as well.

J.V. was sitting up now and Reba was making sure he was eating right. No more high-cholesterol breakfasts, but plenty of salads and fish, which J.V. didn't like at all. He wasn't doing the ranch work, but Helen, Reba, and sometimes Brock, handled most it.

So, that's why Reba didn't understand why she heard her parents fighting downstairs with Brock's name flying out of their mouths every once in a while. Curious, she put down the book she was reading and tiptoed out into the hall. She could almost picture the scene: her daddy in his recliner, hand clasped around the television remote, and Helen standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, face red with anger.

"She just doesn't understand," Reba heard Helen say.

"Would you hush up?" J.V. asked. "She's gon' up and hear ya. Then what?"

"I hope she does! I see her out there everyday with that boy, and she looks at him like he's God's gift."

"And? They ain't in bed together, are they?"

"No-"

"Then let 'em alone."

Helen scoffed. "I can't believe you're allowing this relationship to go on. He's twenty-one, an adult. He's in college and probably smokes and drinks and does drugs and who knows what else."

"He's a good kid. He's a hard worker. He's out there in the sun workin' hard every day."

"Your daughter is in love with him. It's easy to see that. What's going to happen when September rolls around and he goes back to Texas, huh?"

"I don't know, Helen. Would you stop meddling? She's growing up. Let her make her own mistakes."

"I don't want her getting hurt."

"You're hurtin' her more if you keep her from him."

"I just don't think he's any good, J.V. There's something about him."

Reba was terrified, at this point. Her stomach had dropped five times during the time she had been listening. She was sure it was under the house by now. Her mama wanted her to stop seeing Brock just because he was three years older than her?

Tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes as she thought about where her mama was coming from. She hadn't even considered the fact that Brock would be gone at the end of the summer. He'd go back to Houston and live his adult, college life and she'd be stuck in Nowhere, Oklahoma for who knows how long.

She had heard songs about those steamy summer romances. In September, after all the love and the happiness of the summer, the boy returned to his hometown and the girl went on with her life, but always remembered the most magical summer of her life. Reba, however, knew she'd fall apart if Brock wasn't by her side at all times. Even now, she found herself not knowing what to do when the day ended and he went home.

She worked so hard to appear a strong woman. Like her daddy, she wanted to make people believe she could make it through anything, that she didn't need anyone helping her. She could do everything on her own because she was a fighter. But she knew, without a doubt, that if she didn't have Brock, a piece of her would be gone, and she'd never get it back. He was her other half. She knew that after spending just two weeks with him.

"I'm not going to stop seeing him," Reba announced, bounding down the stairs. Her parents looked to her.

"I told you," J.V. said.

"Reba, he's not a keeper," Helen said, going to her daughter, taking her hands. "He'll stray, honey. I've seen it before."

Reba pulled her hands for her mother's. "He will not." Then she regretted her words. She had no idea how Brock felt about her. He had expressed that he liked her, but not that he couldn't live without her. "He's a good man." Okay, she knew that much.

"Exactly. He's a man. You're a baby."

"I am not. I'm seventeen. I'll be eighteen in December, and I can go with him if I want to, then."

Helen stared at her. "You've only known him for two weeks."

"So? It has to take years to get to know a person?"

"He won't pay any attention to you. He'll be in college. He's going for his doctorate. Do you know how tough life would be for you if you ran off?"

"I'm not running off, Mama. It's called growing up." She turned to J.V. "Daddy, please tell Mama that I know what I'm doing."

"Gotta let her go sometime," J.V. said.

Helen threw her hands in the air, walking around the living room a bit before stopping. "Have you discussed this with him?"

"No. I hadn't expressed it to anyone. You just jumped to conclusions, and, I might add, put ideas in my head."

"I don't want him coming to help work anymore."

"Helen," J.V. said. "Go cook dinner, and leave her alone."

"J.V., stop that."

"Go on. I want to talk to Reba alone."

Reluctantly, Helen left in a huff, and Reba turned to J.V. "Daddy," She began. "I never even thought about leaving with Brock. Honest."

"I know, Foxy." He didn't look at her. He seldom did when he spoke to her.

"Then what's Mama's problem?"

"She remembers what it's like to be in love when you're young. She remembers how hard it was. She sees herself in you."

Reba flopped down on the couch. "I think I love him."

"I know you do."

"Do you think he loves me?"

"I don't know. You might wanna ask him that, though, before you go off telling your mama that you can leave with him if you want."

She leaned back, thinking. Did she want to know the answer? Did Brock love her as much as she was starting to love him? What if he didn't?

**xXx**

That night, while she trying to go to sleep, the question popped back into her head, and it drove her nuts because she knew she'd have to wait until the next day to find out. She was anxious, which left her brain running on the fritz. So, there she was, wide awake at midnight, pondering the life changing question.

Unbeknownst to Reba, Brock was hanging out just outside her window. He was struggling with the same thing: did she love him as much as he was growing to love her? Would she freak out and run if he told her? Would she tell her daddy and have him arrested or, worse, run down by a bull? He didn't know, but it was tugging at his heart. He had to get it out soon.

Picking up a small stone, he reared back and tossed it at her second-story window. He'd always seen it done in movies, and figured it was a romantic thing to do. When she didn't come to the window, he picked up another rock and threw it again. A moment later, the window opened and Reba stuck her head out.

"Brock?" She whispered harshly. "What are you doing?" She leaned on the sill as she strained to see his face.

"I wanted to know if you could talk," He whispered back. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither."

"I'll be right down."

She quickly pulled a sweater over her tank top and stepped into her boots before tiptoeing downstairs and outside. Brock met her on the porch.

"Hey," He said, hands in his pockets. He was still wearing what he had on earlier.

"Hi." She wrapped her arms around herself even though it wasn't cold. Maybe it was just the chills from being near him.

"So…"

"Wanna sit on the swing?"

"Sure."

They both moved towards the swing that hung in front of the window. Reba had turned off the motion detector light so it wouldn't wake up her parents, but now she was more concerned about the creaking swing.

They sat a few inches away from each other, Reba's hands in her lap, unsure of what to do or what to say. It was obvious Brock had a reason for being here or he would have waited until morning.

After a moment or two of silence, Brock scooted closer to her and carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Reba sat there, not moving and nervous. She knew he wasn't going to push her limits, but this intimacy was new.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're shaking."

She put her face in her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little on edge."

"Is it me?" He pulled away from her.

"No!" Her gaze turned towards him. "It's not you! It's just that…Mama and Daddy were arguing earlier and it made me think, that's all."

"Oh." He nodded. "I used to hate it when my parents fought. 'Course it's not like it happened often. Your parents have to actually come home in order for that to happen."

"I'm not sure I follow…"

"My dad was hardly around."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's in the past, but now, since I'm going to college and making something of myself, my mom is constantly bringing him up. I don't know why. "

At the mention of college, Reba's heart sank.

"I'm sorry," Brock continued. "You probably don't want to hear all this."

"I don't mind."

"It's rude, anyway." He turned to her. "I'll shut up." He smiled. "I did come here for a reason."

"And what reason is that?"

"I don't know how you're going to take it…"

Her blood ran cold and she thought she was going to faint. He realized how young she was, and he was going back to Houston early to get away from her. He didn't love her. He saw her as an irritating little girl. How could she be so stupid?

Hurt, she stood from the swing. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

"Breaking up with you? What?" He stood as well.

"Because I'm only seventeen. Well, I'll tell you what, Buster. You can just go back to Houston and your college girlfriends, 'cause I'm fine here without you. I don't need a boyfriend like-"

"Reba, Reba, whoa. What are you talking about? I'm not going back to Houston."

"You're not?"

"No, and I'm not breaking up with you. I came over here to tell you…that you're just amazing. I've never met anyone like you, and when we first met, I liked you. But, now, after getting to know you and figuring out what kind of a person you are, I think I'm starting to love you. That's what I meant by what I said."

She stood there with her mouth slightly open, embarrassed that she'd jumped to conclusions. "You…love me?"

"Please don't feel like you have to say it back. I'm just trying honesty out for once. People say it works."

"Brock. I love you, too."

"You do?"

She nodded. "That's what my mama and daddy were fighting about. Mama thinks you're just gonna up and leave at the end of the summer and I'm going to be heartbroken. But if we love each other, nothing can keep us apart, right?" She smiled, waiting for him to agree with her, but he didn't. "Right?"

"Reba, I do have to go back to college. I thought you knew that."

"Then what's going to happen to us?"

He shrugged, sitting back down in the swing. "I can't drop out of college." He looked up at her standing there. She looked so innocent with her pajamas, boots, and sleepy eyes, and he hated to hurt her. "This just moved so fast. I didn't expect to come here and find an amazing girl and fall in love with her. I didn't plan for this."

"Then transfer here."

"I can't. I got a football scholarship. I have to stay in Houston."

Reba's arms drooped to her sides in desperation. "But you can't just leave."

Brock stood once more, grabbing her hands. "Here's what I'm thinking: why don't we just enjoy the rest of the summer and see where it goes. Is that alright?"

As much as she hated to think about what the end of the summer might hold, she nodded painfully, trying not to make eye contact with him. But she couldn't help it. His eyes stared back into hers and before she knew what was happening, Brock was pulling her in for a kiss.

It was her first kiss, and she wasn't sure what to do, but her girlfriends had talked about it amongst their group. She closed her eyes on instinct as his lips moved against her own. After a split second, she realized she'd have to kiss him back, so that's what she did. She felt his arms moving around her waist, settling on her hips. Strange jolts ran through her stomach as his tongue rested at her lips. Figuring he wanted her to open her mouth, she did, and he ran his tongue along her teeth, her knees going weak. Her hands ran up his chest and around his neck before he pulled away.

"Gotta say, that was the best kiss I've ever had." He smiled at her, loving how the moonlight reflected off her eyes.

"That was my first kiss," She admitted.

"It was? I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She laughed. "Don't be sorry." And then, for a reason she didn't understand, tears just began rolling down her face.

"Hey, don't cry." He wiped the tears away with his thumb while holding her face with his hands. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." She tried to laugh but the tears fell harder. She buried her face in his chest and he held her close, rubbing her back slowly.

Maybe it was the realization that she might not have to live her life alone, or maybe it was just the pure joy that someone loved her. She didn't know anything but that the tears she was crying weren't tears of sadness. She was happier than she had been in a long time.


	8. Chapter 8

_February 2007_

"He kissed you?"

Elizabeth's enthusiasm made her smile. "He did."

She clasped her hands together, a wide grin spread across her face. "Awwwww!" Reba laughed and Elizabeth said, "It's like a movie in my head. It should be a movie! Or a book, or something!"

"I'm perfectly content with it just being my life," Reba said. But was she?

"Elizabeth?" Reba looked over to see Brock poke his head in. "Your dad's ready to go."

"Aw, man." She made a face then turned to Reba. "Can't I stay over?"

Reba patted her leg, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. "I'd let ya, honey, but it's a Tuesday and you have school in the morning."

"I don't _have_ to go to school." She tried the winking thing again, and Reba laughed, headed towards the door and opening it wider as Brock disappeared downstairs.

"Come on, darlin'." She motioned for Elizabeth to follow her and reluctantly the seven year old did.

"I wanna hear more of the story," Elizabeth complained.

"You will eventually. We won't leave ya hangin'."

Goodbyes were said, hugs were given, and then they were off after a loving pat on the shoulder from Van. She knew what his reasons were, and she appreciated them, but it bothered her that she wasn't hiding her problems good enough. It made the guilty feelings weigh upon her heart more heavily.

**xXx**

She hadn't had an ultrasound in twelve years. Not since she got pregnant with Jake. But today she was having one. It made her nervous because suddenly everything was so real. She had a baby inside of her, and it wasn't Brock's. It was horrible and almost unbearable to think about, but there it was, right on the screen. Her baby.

The nurse taking the ultrasound was nice enough. A bit hurried in her work, though.

"You look to be about nine or ten weeks along," The woman said, not paying any attention to Reba's trembling hands clenching the edges of the table. "Let me get this sound turned up…"

All of a sudden, the room was filled with a whooshing sound, and Reba almost lost it.

"That's the heartbeat," The nurse said. "Although, I'm sure you knew that, being a veteran mom."

She had completely miscalculated how far along she was. She though maybe seven weeks, but nine or ten? It had happened longer ago than she thought.

"Are you waiting to know the sex?" The nurse asked, interrupting Reba's thoughts.

"I wasn't even thinking about that. Do you know?"

"Yes."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to know in advance…"

"You have yourself a little girl."

Another girl. She didn't know if she could handle that. As sick as it sounded, she was hoping for a boy, so her and Brock's family would be evened out. That's when she realized, for the thousandth time, that it was Jack's baby, not Brock's.

"The doctor will be in in a moment," The nurse said, standing and turning off the ultrasound machine, after printing a picture. She handed Reba several paper towels from a roll under the machine so she could clean up, and then produced the ultrasound picture.

When the nurse left, Reba sat up and got her clothes straightened out, and stared at the picture. She traced her finger along the curve of the baby's spine and sighed.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do about you," She whispered. "But don't you doubt for one second that I don't love you, 'cause I already do. You've just come at the worst possible time, in the worst possible situation…"

There was a sharp knock on the door before the doctor, a tall, handsome-looking man with chestnut-colored hair walked in. "Hello, Mrs. Hart. How are you today?" He held a clipboard and wore nice clothes.

"Okay, I guess." She tucked the ultrasound picture under her thigh.

"Just okay?" He sat down in his roller stool, and looked over the folder with her name on the tab.

She shrugged. "I just haven't been feeling like myself lately."

"That's normal given your advanced maternal age. That's something I wanted to discuss with you."

"I figured…"

"I don't mean to offend you, but you are older than we'd like mothers to be conceiving. Healthily, I mean. Plus, your high blood pressure is a concern. Now, don't get me wrong, you could have a perfectly healthy baby, it's just that we don't want any scares. You'll have to take superb care of yourself."

"I plan to."

But could she really when she didn't fully want the baby? That's what scared her to no end. Not the fact that she was forty-five or that she had high blood pressure, but the fact that lately, she didn't care whether she lived to see the next day or not.

**xXx**

The baby store at the mall gave Reba an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had driven there right after her ultrasound and was now regretting it. There were too many expectant mothers in that store with either their husbands or older kids. It made her feel terribly alone in the world, and daunting thoughts formed in her brain. Ones that involved her permanently going away.

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she stepped towards the rack of dresses. They were all so tiny and fragile looking, much like her unborn baby girl. She touched the lace edge of one of the dresses when she heard someone say her name. Spinning around, she was met by the smiling face of Barbra Jean Booker, Brock's dental hygienist.

"Oh, hello," Reba said, trying to smile.

"What are you doing here?" The blonde held a few stuffed animals in her arms.

Reba's pulse quickened. "Um, just looking at stuff for my granddaughter."

"She's not a baby, is she?"

"She's seven."

"I only ask because there's pictures of the whole family on Brock's desk."

Reba smiled at that. So he had kept the pictures in his office? That was oddly reassuring. "How is work?" It was a mundane and cliché question, she knew, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

Barbra Jean smiled a quirky smile. It had some hidden meaning. She had a mysterious look in her eye, and Reba thought she was being too friendly. "Work is good. I love working with Brock. He's a good man."

Reba nodded slowly. "He is."

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and Reba got the feeling Barbra Jean was sending her some kind of message with her eyes, knowing Reba would wonder about it.

"Well, I better be going," Reba said, moving past her husband's employee. "Nice seeing you."

"Tell Brock I said 'hi'."

**xXx**

"Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?"

Reba smiled at her daddy's soft voice. "I'm doin' alright, Foxy, how 'bout you?"

Reba sank deeper into her office chair after arriving at work. She had just come from the mall and her mind was still reeling from her and Barbra Jean's odd conversation.

"Just a little frazzled," She answered, thankful she had her own office with a door now, so she could talk to her father in private.

"What for?"

She sighed, wondering why her daddy sounded weak over the phone. "Work." She quickly changed the subject. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Your mama keeps trying to get me to see a doctor, but I keep telling her I'm just fine, so I'll tell you, too."

"Why does she want you to see a doctor?"

"Something about my cholesterol. It's getting high again. But I'm fine. I got arteries like a leather strap. Tough. Nothin' can bust 'em."

"Daddy, if Mama's worried-"

"Let's talk about the kids."

"Okay. Well, Jake's doing good. Failing most of his classes in school, though."

"Sounds a bit like his mama."

"Daddy." She couldn't help but smile. But he was right. She averaged C's and D's in school before she pulled her grades up to B's in her senior year.

"What about Kyra? How's she?"

"Writin' music, like always."

"Just like you."

"Yep. Still in college, too."

"Cheyenne okay?"

"Oh, yeah. She's got her hands full with Kasey and Elizabeth, though. Especially with the baby being sick these past few days."

"Sure wish I could get to see them great-grandkids."

"You will, Daddy." She vaguely wondered if he was hiding something with the way he talked. "We should all take a trip up sometime."

"You know your Mama'd love that."

"You know you would, too."

"I might. I'd show the kids how to rope 'em a calf or two."

"Daddy! Tell me you're not still ropin'!"

"Not too much these days. Doctor says it's not good for my heart."

"He's right. You need to take it easy. Listen to those doctors. They know what they're doin'."

"I went thirty-seven'm years without going to a doctor, and I'm just dandy. And when I did go, I was forced, if you'll remember."

"I remember." She sighed, noting the time. "Well, Daddy, I better get goin'. I'm on my lunch break."

"Alright, darlin'. You take care of yourself."

"You too, Daddy. I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Bye."

"Bye, Foxy."

The line clicked on the other end and Reba was disconnected from her old life in Oklahoma once again, just like when her and Brock had hightailed it out of there.

Remembering Elizabeth's smile the day before, she pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing another portion of the story to the little girl, suddenly filled with all sorts of emotions and feelings and urges to relive the happiest time of her life.

**xXx**

_June 1979_

Brock had borrowed his uncle's truck again to take Reba driving. They weren't headed anywhere particular. Just out cruising the Oklahoma roads. There wasn't much scenery, but they were content to just talk and be together.

"So," Reba asked, turning the radio down and propping her feet up on the dash. "Do you have any siblings?"

Brock shook his head, wrist resting on the steering wheel as they bumped along the gravel road. "Nope. Not a one. That I know of, I mean. Dad slept around so much, who knows."

"Oh." She obviously wasn't prepared for that kind of answer, but he chuckled and asked the same.

"No. I always wanted a little sister or something, though. It got kind of lonely when Mama and Daddy were out workin' and I was stuck to play on the porch by myself. I mean, I had friends, but they never wanted to come over. Daddy put 'em to work."

Brock laughed. "I never had the desire to have a sibling. It probably would have caused more friction in the house, anyway."

Reba turned in her seat, fully facing Brock. "Tell me about your family."

He didn't speak for a moment and suddenly put both hands on the wheel, gripping tightly. "Ah. You don't wanna hear about them. Tell me about yours."

"Brock."

He sighed. "Okay. Well, my parents got married young. Real young. Like, when they were sixteen. They had me young, tried to start a roofing business young, and their marriage went south young. They weren't married a year before my dad started cheating on my mom. She never divorced him, though, and that's always struck me as odd."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. I mean, there were so many problems. And when I say problems, I mean a hurricane and a tornado and a flood times a thousand. That's what went on in my house. But my mom seemed to still love him no matter what he did. No matter how bad he got on her nerves or hurt her, she never left. She did get fed up and sleep around a bit, though. When my dad found out, he wasn't thrilled, but she threw it back in his face that he did the same."

"Wow. Do you think he loved her? I mean, he didn't respect her, but sometimes hurting people do silly things."

"I think he did love her, but not enough to stay loyal."

Reba sat back in her seat. "Well, again, hurting people do stupid things. It doesn't necessarily mean they're bad people."

"And I don't think my dad was a bad man. He always had food on the table and a roof over our head, even if it was cutting it close and the police were knocking on our door with an eviction notice. Somehow, someway, he always got things took care of, whether he was home or not. Whether he was plastered or not. That's another thing. He drank like a damn fish."

"Alcoholic?"

"Oh, yes."

"I lost an uncle to that."

"It's a scary thing to see as a kid: your dad stumbling through the door, _holding_ the damn whiskey bottle and throwing stuff around." He shook his head. "That's why I don't drink."

"You don't?"

"No. I've tried alcohol, but I try and stay away from it if at all possible. Do you drink?"

She shrugged. "Not on a regular basis, no."

"But you do?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm not judging you."

"I know. You wouldn't dare."

He looked over at her and smirked. "Oh, I wouldn't?"

"Oh, no. 'Cause if you did, I'd make you stop the car, get out, and walk back home while I took the truck."

"You can't overpower me." She raised an eyebrow and he glanced at her. "Forget I said that."

"Mm-hmm." She sat back in her seat. "You kept referring to your dad in the past tense."

Brock nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

"He died last year."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too." He shrugged. "Sad thing is, he never knew how I felt about him."

"How did you feel about him?"

"Anger and resentment yet, at the same time, love and honor. In a way, I looked up to him. I want to provide for my family the way he did for his. He was a hard worker no matter how you look at it. He made a few mistakes, is all."

"Everybody makes mistakes."

He nodded. "Yeah. But hopefully, when it comes to us-" He turned to her and slowed the truck to almost a complete stop. "-we won't."

**xXx**

_February 2007_

Brock got home from work an hour late at the end of the next week for obvious reasons. He had been with Barbra Jean again. He threw his coat on the couch and looked around the house. Some of the lights were on, but no one appeared to be there. He yelled Jake and Reba's names, but got no response, which was odd because Reba's car was in the driveway.

He figured she may be lying down upstairs so he hurried up to their bedroom, pushing the door open to find Reba standing in front of her full-length mirror with her shirt up, standing sideways. When she saw him, she jerked around and straightened her clothes.

"Brock."

"What were you doing?" He pointed to the mirror as he took off his watch at his dresser.

Her heart was pounding. "Nothing. I just seem to be gaining a little weight, is all." She pretended to fuss with her hair in the mirror and wondered if he was suspicious.

Walking over to her, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Maybe a little weight." His hands rested on her stomach. "Not much. You can't even tell."

Reba hurried away from his touch, walking into the bathroom. "A woman can tell," She said and shut the door, leaning against it. She hadn't even heard him come in. With a hand over her chest where her heart was beating a mile a minute, she realized she'd have to do something fast. She was beginning to show. Her middle was getting thicker every day and soon enough she wouldn't be able to hide it. But until then, she decided her wardrobe would consist of black and black only.

Meanwhile, Brock was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. She was acting so jumpy lately. Every time he tried to touch her, she'd get away as fast as she could. If it had been ten years ago, she would have been all over him by now.

_Maybe she knows,_ he thought, _and doesn't want to touch me because I've touched someone else._

But that couldn't be it. He gave no indication he was cheating. He was being overly careful, as much as he hated to admit it.

Two people living in the same house. Hearts still together, but heads a thousand miles apart; One of the most dangerous circumstances a marriage could get involved in.

When Brock heard the shower go on a second later, he got an idea to start dinner for her. Maybe it was a pity thing, but he was feeling particularly guilty that day. A nice gesture wouldn't hurt.

While she was showering, he ran downstairs and began making some pasta dish he found in the cookbook. It was easy enough, and he found that all the ingredients were in the cupboard.

As he cooked, Jake walked through the backdoor, sopping wet, bringing a binder down to his side from where he had been holding it over his head. Brock looked to him and chuckled.

"Did you walk home?"

Jake kicked off his shoes by the door. "Almost. I walked halfway here before Ricky's mom drove by and stopped to give me a ride. It started raining harder when I got here."

"Where were you?"

"Detention."

Brock sighed. "For your grades?"

Jake grabbed a soda from the refrigerator. "It's just too hard to study, Dad."

"Because of me and your mom fighting?"

He nodded and Brock let out a breath, slowly stirring the sauce. "I'm sorry, bud. I know we've been at each other a lot lately. It's getting better, though."

Jake didn't respond. He had heard this story a thousand times. It never got better and he had given up hope that it ever would. He hardly remembered a time when his parents were civil to one another, much less loving. He honestly couldn't wait to graduate school and get out, but six years seemed like a million years to him.

"Listen," Brock said, checking the chicken that was baking in the oven. "Me and your mom really need some time to talk, so do you think you could have dinner in your room? I know your mom doesn't like you to, but it's necessary, Jake. It really is."

Jake nodded, knowing he couldn't say no even if he wanted to. He slowly gathered his backpack up and padded across the linoleum into the living room and up the stairs, where his mom was coming down.

"Hey, honey," She greeted him, a hand resting momentarily on his shoulder. "Have a good day?"

"Yeah," He lied, continuing to his room where he shut the door, deciding to go without dinner. He didn't have much of an appetite anyway.

In the kitchen, the phone rang and Brock stirred the sauce once more before going to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad, it's me."

"Cheyenne, hey."

"We still on tonight?"

"Do what?"

"You and mom babysitting Kasey and Elizabeth, remember?"

"Honey, I completely forgot."

"Can you still do it?"

"I wish I could, but I made your mom a special dinner tonight. We really need to talk about some things. Is there any way you can get another sitter?"

Cheyenne sighed. "No. But if you and Mom need to talk, Van and I will cancel. Shakira will come back to Houston eventually."

"Sure she will," Brock said, no idea what a Shakira was. "I'm really sorry, honey. You know I would if I could, but this is really necessary, like I told Jake."

"Are things really that bad, Dad? I mean, Mom won't tell me anything, but I know something's up. She's not acting herself."

"I know. I'm trying to figure out what to do."

"I'm scared for her, Dad."

"Why's that?"

"She's acting the same way she did when you two separated."

Brock closed his eyes, upset his daughter had brought that up. Six years ago, things had gotten really bad between him and Reba. They honestly could not say one word to each other without it starting a near knock-down drag-out fight. They had finally separated, but got back together a few months later. They had never spoken of what the other went through during those few months apart, but Brock got the feeling Reba's end wasn't good by the way Cheyenne was talking about it.

"She'll be okay," He finally said, reopening his eyes. "You know how strong she is. Hardly needs me, anyway." He chuckled but Cheyenne didn't seem amused.

"You know that's not true, Dad. You both need each other."

"Eh, maybe not as much as we used to."

"Once you start thinking one way, that's how you start living. You told me that, Dad."

"I know. But everything will be fine. I made a nice dinner and we're going to have a nice, long talk."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye."

They hung up just as Reba walked into the kitchen. "Was that Cheyenne?" She asked.

Brock nodded, noting how her hair was all curled from air-drying. "Yeah, she had to cancel the concert, so we don't have to babysit." He figured one, little white lie wouldn't hurt if it'd help her not get mad about _him_ doing the canceling to talk with her.

"That's too bad. I'm sure Elizabeth was looking forward to hearing more of the story." She moved to get a water from the refrigerator, but stopped when she saw the stove and oven working full-time. "Are you cooking?"

He nodded, smiling discreetly. "I am. Just a simple chicken parmesan recipe I found."

Reba narrowed her eyes and retrived a bottled water. "Mm-hmm. Any particular reason why you're cooking? What did you do?'

He scoffed. "Can't I do something nice for you?"

"Not unless you're wanting something. What is it?"

"I don't want anything from you, Reba. All I'm doing is making dinner for my wife. Is that a crime?"

Her skin tingled at the way he referred to her. He hadn't called her his wife in months.

"I guess not…" She responded. "Is Jake not eating?"

"He'll eat up in his room."

"I heard him mumbling about losing his appetite."

"Oh. I guess not, then." He pulled the chicken from the oven, pouring the sauce over it. "More for us." He got out two plates and two forks before grabbing a bottle of wine from the wine closet by the backdoor. Reba saw what he was doing and felt her stomach do somersaults.

They moved to sit at the table and Brock actually served her. It was something new. Usually she served everyone else. It was nice to be on the receiving end, yet odd. She still got the feeling Brock was wanting something from her. Little did she know, it was just forgiveness for an act she didn't know he had committed.

That was how the two differed. Brock cheated then went and made up for it by making dinner or getting her some lavish gift. Reba cheated and avoided Brock and confrontation at all costs. If they had been in their right minds, they would have noticed, but they were both in the wrong and focused on that, so nothing was said.

"So," Reba said after they began to eat. "There must be some reason for making this dinner."

"No reason at all," Brock responded, opening the wine and filling his glass before going to fill Reba's.

"Actually," She said, placing a hand over her glass before he could pour the drink. "I'll just have water."

He held the bottle in a tilted position, freezing his motions. "Since when? You always have wine with dinner."

She shrugged, getting up to fill her glass with water. "Nothing wrong with changing up a routine every once in a while."

Brock put the wine on the table. "Alright, then."

She came and sat back down and all was quiet. Brock desperately wanted to bring up the subject of their dwindling marriage, but the mood was so good that he didn't want to ruin it. Even though they were just sitting there eating, nothing was tense and there wasn't an argument. No way was he going to ruin that by being an idiot and bringing up past wrongs.

Later that evening, Reba lay in bed while Brock was in the shower. It wasn't like him to do something nice for her just because, and that bothered her. She tried to shrug it off, though, as he walked into their bedroom and slipped into bed, turning off the light.

Like usual, Reba scooted as far to the edge of the bed as she could. It wasn't particularly comfortable, trying to balance there, but it was better than risking touching Brock in the middle of the night and waking up in his arms. But tonight, Brock had other plans. Slowly but surely, he inched towards her.

She couldn't believe it. That's what he wanted? He went through all the trouble of making dinner and convincing her he was just doing something nice for _that_? Well, she wasn't going to have any part of it.

"What are you doing?" She asked as he slipped his arm around her middle.

She felt him smile against her skin as he moved to kiss her neck. Oh, no. He was fixing to get it.

"Brock."

"What?" His response was mumbled.

"Get back over to your side of the bed before I make it to where you can never have sex again."

He lifted his head and peered at her in the dark. "What?"

"You heard me." She shoved him off her and turned on her side, facing away from him. She pulled the covers way up and closed her eyes tight.

"I don't understand…" He continued.

"Yes, you do. You don't just come over here and attack me like that. You didn't even ask."

He scoffed. It was almost like a laugh. Was he amused? Well, he was fixing to get real amused.

"Ask?"

"Yes, ask."

"Who asks for sex? I've never asked you. We've always just gone at it."

"I did not ask you to describe anything, Brock. Will you go to sleep, please?"

"It's been almost seven months. That has to be illegal or something."

"Like you've gone that long."

Brock stopped and pulled away from her. "What's that supposed to mean?" She shrugged. "You're a weak man. You can't control yourself."

"What are you implying? That I'm cheating?"

She rolled over and looked up at him. He was leaning on his elbow and looked down at her, heart beating fast.

"Actually, no," She said. "I figured you were taking matters into your own hands. Thin walls between the bathroom and the bedroom, Brock."

He was glad it was dark or she would have seen his red face. But she hadn't suspected cheating and that was good. Although he credited her with more intelligence.

"Well, what have you been doing?" He asked, trying to turn the tables on her.

She laughed. "Why don't you focus on your own actions, and leave me alone so I can sleep." She tried to turn over again, but Brock stopped her.

"You've obviously forgotten what it's like."

"No."

"You have to have. Listen, I know we've been arguing a lot and disagreeing every time we turn a corner, but I can only do so much. It doesn't have to be all lovey dovey, you know. Just a wham, bam, thank you, ma'am."

"I cannot believe that you just said that. You're digging yourself a deeper hole, so shut up and go to sleep."

"Reba-"

"Just go sleep on the couch."

Brock stopped. "I'm not sleeping on the couch again."

"Then get away from me."

He shook his head and reluctantly laid down on his side of the bed, far away from her. Everything felt so cold. It was as if they had never loved or laughed or had one good time in their marriage at all.

**I know I've been making the chapters kind of long. Would you guys rather me not? Review and let me know. (:**


	9. Chapter 9

Two weeks crawled by without any intimacy or even a kind word. After the night when Brock tried to entice his wife, she had closed him off completely. She hardly talked to him. To anyone, for that matter. When Kyra visited for a week, Reba stayed silent unless it was just mother and daughter. Brock had no idea what they talked about, but he was fairly sure Reba wasn't sharing their marital struggles. She was smarter than that, wasn't she?

On Friday, Cheyenne called again, concerned that she hadn't heard from either one of her parents in so long. Reba answered the phone since Brock was out golfing or doing something without her. She didn't care what he was doing, honestly.

"Hello?"

"Mom!"

"Cheyenne? Is there something wrong?"

"No! I'm just glad to hear your voice!"

Reba thought for a moment. It had been quite a long time since she had spoken with her eldest daughter. "I haven't talked to you in almost two weeks," Reba said, sitting at the kitchen counter.

"I know! How are you and Dad and Jake? Kyra visited this week, didn't she? Is she still there? How is she? How's work?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. One at a time. Me and Dad are-Jake's great, and Kyra did visit this week. She's upstairs doing something. Work's fine. How's everybody at your place?"

"Van says he misses your cooking." She laughed. "Elizabeth got straight A's on her report card, and Kasey's learning to walk! I got a video of him! Oh, Mom, I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. Have you all been busy?"

"Not too bad. Why?"

"It's just that you usually call every other day or so. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. And I have been calling. Dad usually picks up, though, and says that you and him need time alone, or that you're asleep or at work. I call to talk to you but I always end up with him. Which, you know, isn't bad or anything…"

"I get it. But you know that even if I am asleep, tell your dad to wake me up if you need me."

"I know, but it sounded like you were really exhausted by the way he talked."

"I've been fine this week. Listen, why don't you all come over? We'll order pizza or something and watch a movie. Like old times."

Cheyenne was thrilled and announced they'd be over within the hour. They said their goodbyes and Reba hung up the phone, rage filling her veins. She didn't know what Brock's game was, but she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Ten minutes later, after Reba ordered the pizza, Brock walked in through the front door and entered the kitchen a moment later.

"So," Reba said, one hand on the counter, one on her hip as Brock rummaged through the fridge. "I just talked to Cheyenne for the first time in two weeks."

"Oh, yeah?" He was bent over at the waist and in the crisper, not looking at her.

"Yeah. She said that whenever she's tried to call during the past fourteen days, you always picked up and told her I couldn't talk."

He shrugged. "I know you're busy and stressed out."

"What makes you say that? I'm not busy and I'm not stressed and even if I was, I'm not too busy or stressed to talk to my own daughter."

He slammed the crisper drawer closed and stood up, closing the fridge. "Sorry."

"You're sorry? You're _sorry_? Well, that makes everything better, doesn't it, Brock? That's two weeks I can't get back!"

"What are you all bent out of shape about?"

Truthfully, she was terrified her family would find out about her affair and never want to speak with her again. If she had the chance to talk to her children, she'd take it no matter what she was doing or how hectic her schedule was. It should have been a light bulb going off in her head saying, 'stop having your affair, then!', but there wasn't one.

"I just don't understand why you'd try and keep me from my kids! Come to think of it, I haven't seen much of Jake, either."

"I thought you might want to be alone so we could talk things over, but you never want to do that."

"Of course I don't! Why would I want to talk about how bad things are? It's obvious nothing's ever going to be fixed. I'm just trying to make it to where life is bearable. But you're not even doing that!"

"No, I'm trying to put our marriage back together! This is quite a shock, though. Thank you. I know my wife thinks there's no hope. So, should I quit trying, too?"

Reba stopped talking, although her eyes were still full of anger, her hands balled into fists. If he quit trying, there really would be no hope and they might as well sign the divorce papers right then and there. She knew deep, deep down she wanted things to work out, but she didn't want to try. She figured she had tried for twenty-seven years to keep things running smooth and now, it was his turn. But if he quit…

She shook her head. "Cheyenne and Van will be here with the kids in a little bit. Try and get out of your mood before then." She turned on her heel and left the kitchen, leaving Brock standing there alone.

Everyone arrived a little while later and Jake and Kyra joined the rest of the family for pizza and a movie. It was a comedy, but Brock couldn't focus on it, and it wasn't funny to him. His mind was reeling over his wife's words. She truly believed there was no hope for them. She was just going through the motions. He wondered how long that had been going on.

The family laughed at the screen and Brock tried to pull his attention towards it, but it wasn't happening. Instead, he watched his family. He was sitting on one end of the couch, Jake at the other end and Kyra slouching in the middle, texting and obviously not paying attention, either. Cheyenne sat in the chair closest to the kitchen with a sleeping Kasey in her arms, while Van perched on a chair from the dining room right beside her. Reba sat in the chair near the door with Elizabeth in her lap, the little girl lying against her chest. Reba smiled every so often and Brock faintly thought about how much he missed making her smile. It had been awhile.

Elizabeth was playing with the bracelet on Reba's wrist and Brock grinned, knowing that as soon as the movie was over, the seven year old would begin pestering him about the story. He had to admit, he was practically reliving the story each time he told it. He found himself wishing it were twenty-seven years ago and him and Reba were so young and so in love.

He shook his head, standing from his chair to go get a glass of water from the kitchen. They'd never get those times back, so he might as well forget about it. Nobody but Elizabeth noticed him leave. She wiggled out of Reba's lap and ran after him, Reba's last letter tucked away in her pocket, already read.

"Hi," She giggled.

Brock turned around and saw his granddaughter in the middle of the kitchen, hands behind her back, rocking back on her heels.

"What are you doing?" He grinned, setting his glass on the counter.

"That movie is boring." She stuck her tongue out.

"It is, isn't it?"

"You don't like it, either?"

"A movie about a bunch of animals on a deserted island? No way. Boring."

She laughed and climbed up onto one of the stools at the counter and patted the seat beside her. "Come sit down. I know what we can do."

Brock went over, knowing just what she wanted.

"We were basically inseparable for the month of June. Sometimes, I liked to think I got on her nerves…"

**xXx**

_July 1979_

"Quit breathin' down my neck!"

Brock grinned and rested his chin on Reba's shoulder as they watched fireworks explode in the night sky. "Sorry," He whispered in her ear.

She laughed and held her hands over his where they rested on her stomach. "Don't let it happen again." She looked up at him and gave him a kiss before settling her eyes on the lights once more.

They were down at McAlester Lake where there was a big barbecue every Fourth of July. People were out in their lawn chairs drinking soda and beer as the sun went down, but Reba and Brock went to the top of a nearby hill to be alone.

"I almost lost all my hair to a firework once," Brock said.

"Do I want to know how?"

"A roman candle exploded while I was holding it. I had to go to the hospital with second degree burns."

"So, you really should have said, 'I almost lost my face to a firework once,' but you said 'hair.' Why do I find this odd?"

"I don't know. I guess my one-track mind is too simple for you. Besides, my hair is my best feature, don't you think?"

She shook her head, turning around to face him. "No way."

"Then what is?"

"Your lips, mostly." She gave him several gentle kisses in a row. "And other things that would be inappropriate to say."

He smiled, kissing her back. "I can't decide on your best feature. You have so many."

"Alright. What do you want?"

"What, I'm not allowed to compliment and flatter my girlfriend?"

Her heart soared at his use of that word. "No, you are. I'm just used to people taking things from me and using compliments to get what they want."

He lifted her chin. "I'm not going to do that. I thought you knew me."

"I'm still learning to trust."

"Understandable." He kissed her nose. "Just know you can move on to the next thing, because I'll never use you. Ever. I'll never, ever take you for advantage, either. I can honestly say you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. That and the remote control. Getting up to switch channels was annoying."

She playfully slapped his chest. "You're crazy." She sighed. "But I love you, you crazy."

"I love you, too, crazy woman."

He brought her into a passionate kiss as the last of the fireworks exploded into the starry sky. It was right then and there that he promised himself that no matter what became of their relationship, he'd never forget it and he'd always cherish it.

**xXx**

Brock awoke the next morning feeling like he'd slept on a bed of rocks. And he may as well have. That hill wasn't completely covered in grass.

He opened his eyes and realized Reba was wrapped up in his arms. They had never gone home last night. They had slept outside on the hill together.

Shrugging slightly, Brock snuggled his head in her neck where he had been a second before and tried to go back to sleep. After lying there for a few minutes, he realized he couldn't. His clothes were damp from the morning dew, his back was killing him and…oh yeah, the most beautiful girl in the world was lying in his arms. He couldn't sleep even if he wanted to. Why sleep when he could be cherishing a moment with her?

"Reba?" He whispered, moving around a bit. "Honey, wake up."

She stirred and lifted her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes and looking around. "What the hell…"

"We fell asleep," Brock told her as she sat up completely.

"Out here?" She slowly moved to a sitting position. Her back was aching and so was her head. "All night?"

"Yep." He moved to lay back down but she shoved his hip.

"You can't go back to sleep. Do you realize how much trouble we're in?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Exactly. We're already in trouble. Why rush off?"

"Mama and Daddy are probably worried to-"

Her words were cut off when he grabbed her and lifted her onto his lap. She straddled him as he was lying down, hands on his chest. "-death. What the-"

She was cut off again by his mouth closing over hers. She raised her eyebrows, not expecting that at all. She was still feeling awkward sitting on him. She thought it was a very intimate position and it made her nervous. Plus his hands were resting on her hips, sending sparks up her spine.

She pulled away. "Brock, what are you doing? We have to get back. Really." She tried to roll off of him, but he held her tight.

"Please stay just a bit longer?"

She shook her head. "I can't. If you ever want to see me again, I suggest we hightail it out of here. Maybe they'll forgive you. And I use that term loosely."

She stood up, stepping over him and began walking down the hill, looking over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

He groaned and brought himself to his feet, rushing towards her and grabbing her hand. "I can't let you take the fall alone."

His hand was comforting. As she looked at the remnants of last night's celebration, she thought about what her mama and daddy would say. She had slept _near_ him, not with him. There was a big difference, and she was going to make sure they knew that.

They climbed in Brock's uncle's beat-up truck and began rumbling down the road. It was a half-hour drive and most of it was spent in silence, both worried about what was about to be said.

When they finally pulled up in Reba's driveway, the sun had fully come up. They hopped out, slamming their doors and wincing. If J.V. and Helen had been asleep, there was no chance of them sneaking in now. But Reba saw the barn door open, so she knew her daddy was up. She headed that way, Brock on her heels.

They cautiously walked inside and peeked in each stall for J.V. They found him in one of the stalls at the back of the barn, repairing a horse shoe.

"Daddy?" Reba called quietly.

J.V. didn't look up from where he had the horse's hoof bent on his knee. "Finally decide to come home?"

"It's not what you think."

"Your mama's in the house. Go on in there and let me talk to the boy."

Reba glanced at Brock who tried to appear strong and walked off. Inside, Brock was trembling. J.V. was a tough cowboy who could probably think up unbelievable punishments that even medieval rulers couldn't dream of.

"Mr. McKinney-" Brock began as soon as Reba left the stall.

"Did you and my daughter have relations?" J.V. asked, still not looking up. Brock could see that his face was red with anger, though. There was no telling what this man might do.

"No, sir! We fell asleep out by the lake. They were shootin' fireworks real late, and Reba didn't want to leave. It was an accident, and I swear to you nothing happened."

J.V. nodded. "See that shotgun in the corner?"

Brock looked behind J.V. and nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

"I shoot rabbits and turkey and birds with that gun."

"Yes, sir."

He looked up for the first time and Brock could see a ferocity in his eyes. "If you ever keep my daughter out until morning again, I'll use it on you."

Brock's eyes widened but he nodded all the same. "I understand, sir."

"I don't think you do."

Brock tried to laugh. "Oh, I do. It won't happen again."

J.V. shook his head. "You won't understand until you have a daughter of your own. That redheaded woman you call your girlfriend is my little girl. She'll always be my little girl. If you so much as breathe on her wrong, I'll hunt you down like I hunt down a Thanksgiving turkey. And I'll kill you. I may go to prison for the rest of my life, but if it keeps my daughter safe, I'll do it."

"Yes, sir."

J.V. went back to repairing the horse shoe. "You plan on staying with her?"

Brock stuck his hands in his pockets. "I was planning on it…"

"Even when you go back to Houston?"

"We haven't really discussed that. I was hoping she'd want to come with me. And I was certainly going to talk to you about that first."

"Now is a good of a time as ever."

"Well, sir, I love your daughter. Truly and honestly. I don't want to lose her."

"Believe it or not, I had myself a summer romance once. Out on Helen's granddaddy's farm. Boy, I tell you, that was a remarkable experience. And that's why I'm not running you off. Because I know that love like that exists."

"I appreciate that, sir."

"You better."

"I do."

J.V. worked quietly for a moment before saying, "Are you wantin' to marry her?"

"I've been mulling it over."

"You have my blessing. But you have to promise me two things."

"Anything."

"One." He raised his head. "You never, ever lay a finger on her. If I find out that you hit her, I'll come hit you ten times harder."

"I promise."

"Two. Respect her. She's a woman, son, but she's not like the rest of 'em. There'll be times when she don't need you, but stay anyway because she loves you. Ya hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Good. I hope we've come to an understanding."

"I believe we have."

"Then get your tail out there and start workin'."

Brock turned and walked out of the barn and saw Reba coming out of the house. He jogged up to her.

"Ready to get to work?" He asked.

She put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. "Well, you're all in one piece. No bullet holes. How'd it go? What'd he say?"

Brock grinned, wrapping an arm around her. "I'll tell you later."

**xXx**

_February 2007_

Elizabeth had stayed silent the whole time Brock relayed the story to her. He found it funny. She couldn't sit still long enough to watch a movie made for children, but she'd listen to a person tell a story for hours and hours.

"Was her daddy mad at you real bad?" She asked after he quit speaking.

"Not too bad, I guess. He was a very understanding man. He still is."

"I wish I could meet him."

"I bet you will one day. He'd love to meet you."

"Is he the kind of person who gives you a dollar when they see you?"

Brock chuckled. "Maybe not a dollar. He'd give you a pocketknife, though. Or a miniature horseshoe."

"What is he to me?"

"He's your great-grandpa."

"What's he look like?"

Brock thought a moment before pulling out his wallet and extracting him and Reba's family wedding picture from one of the inside pockets.

"He's the one standing on the left of Grandma."

Elizabeth held the picture in her tiny hands. "He looks…kindhearted."

Brock had never heard J.V. described that way, much less from a seven year old with a more extensive vocabulary that he. "He is kindhearted. One of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. Keeps his word, honest, trustworthy, reliable. Pretty much every good adjective out there."

Elizabeth handed the picture back. "If I ever meet him, I'm going to tell him how I think he's the nicest guy ever."

"Why would you tell him that?"

"'Cause he didn't run you off. If he did, you and Grandma wouldn't have gotten married and my mommy wouldn't be here and neither would I!"

Brock smiled, considering her concept, and realized he should be glad as well. She was right.

**xXx**

Reba picked up her family's mess after they had left that night. Empty pizza boxes lay on the counter, glasses half-full of soda sat on the coffee table, and the living room was in desperate need of vacuuming. Brock was doing something upstairs, but she wished he would come down and help her, as Jake and Kyra had already gone to bed. Kyra would be leaving in the morning and had to get her rest.

"Is he even good for anything anymore?" She mumbled to herself, bending over to pick up several DVD's that were lying on the floor by the television. As she stooped down to stack them in the entertainment center cabinet, she felt a fluttering in her stomach. She stood slowly, placing a hand where she felt the movement, pushing slightly until she felt it again. Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes as she bit her lip. Her baby was moving.

Sixteen weeks ago, she made a huge mistake, but now, feeling her move, she couldn't wait to hold her in her arms.

She looked down and pulled her shirt tight over her belly, noticing that she was showing a lot more. It was becoming more and more noticeable. She ran a hand over her stomach as the fluttering happened again. It felt like a butterfly was trapped in there.

"What are you doing?"

Reba was brought back to reality with Brock's voice coming from behind her. She wiped at the tears that hadn't fallen and went back to stacking DVD's.

"Nothing," was her response. "Just cleaning up."

"Oh." She heard him walk up behind her and sit on the edge of the chair. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you really quick."

"What?"

"I was just wondering if you'd consider therapy now. It's been a few weeks since I last asked and I was just-"

"If it will make you hush up, I'll go to therapy."

Brock stopped, obviously not expecting that answer.

"Reba, if you're going to have that attitude, we might as well not go. I'm just trying to fix-"

"I'm not having any kind of attitude. I want to fix things just as much as you."

She didn't really believe that, but hopefully it'd get him off her back.

"You do?" He asked.

She was taking longer to stack the DVD's than she should've.

"Yes. You're my husband. Of course I want things to work out."

_Don't let him catch on. Say whatever you have to._

"Really? To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to say that."

_Neither was I…_

"I just want to stop being miserable," She said, which was the truth. She just didn't know what it would take to achieve that goal.

"Hey." He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned around, kneeling in front of him until she got up and sat on the coffee table in front of him. "I can make that happen. You don't have to be miserable. Nobody signed up for misery when we got married."

She nodded and he lifted her chin with his finger. It was odd. She usually didn't care for those kinds of gestures. They made her feel weak. But sometimes Brock would catch her on a day where she was already weak and they would make her feel stronger; like she could go on.

"I miss us," She whispered.

He nodded. "I miss us, too."

"Do you think we could get it back?"

Suddenly her lies had turned into the truth and she wanted everything to be perfect again. She wanted Brock to be the man that he had been when they had first met in Oklahoma. She wanted to go back to those simple times and make him promise to never change like he did.

"I do."

He pulled her into a kiss by her chin. It startled her and she gasped, reaching for the arm of the chair to hold onto to keep from falling. His lips moved against hers, clouding her mind and any thoughts she had. She opened her mouth and his tongue began to fight with hers, his hands reaching for her own to pull her onto him, but she pulled away shaking her head. She gestured towards the stairs and he quickly scooped her up and went up the stairs, capturing her lips in another kiss.

Once in their bedroom with the door locked, he gently placed her on the bed climbing on top of her, wasting no time.

"Wait," She said, pulling away from his kiss and moving his hand away from the hem of her shirt.

"What?" He asked, looking down at her.

"Can we turn the lights off?"

"Why? You never want the lights off." He eased her legs open with his knee, settling there and kissing her neck.

"Can we? Please?"

He sighed and pulled away before reaching over and turning off the lamp, hiding any indication she was carrying a baby.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

A little while later, they laid under the sheets, her head on his chest. She listened to his heart beat while he played with her hair.

"Brock?" She asked, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?"

She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. "Is there anything you won't forgive me for?"

He laughed faintly. "What do you mean?"

"Just that. Is there anything you consider unforgivable?"

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged, slowly moving her arm around his middle. "I just know I've messed up."

"We both have."

"Yeah." She kissed his chest a few times before leaning up to kiss him on the mouth.

"You're already forgiven," He mumbled against her lips, his hand moving to the back of her head. "For anything and everything. Does that go both ways?"

She pulled away, resting her forehead against his. "Yes. I forgive you."

"Okay." He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He wrapped his arms around her and laid her beneath him once more, asking a silent question before they made love for the second time.

There had been so much confusion in that one night that Reba didn't know what to think. She hoped they'd get a different therapist, and maybe they could tell her what to do. She didn't care if they told her it was all her fault and she was wrong. She just wanted everything to go back to how it was.


	10. Chapter 10

Brock went to work the next morning with a bounce in his step. Not only because of the night before, but because of earlier that morning when Reba announced she would be working from home and didn't have to get up right away.

He pulled the door to his dental office open with a crooked grin, shaking his head. It felt just like old times. He had wanted that for so long. They had had a movie night with their family, made love, then woke up in each others arms.

Just as he was going over everything that happened last night in minute detail in his head in the X-ray room, someone covered his eyes with their hands.

"Guess who."

"Barbra Jean?"

The hands went away and he turned around, smiling in return when he saw her grin.

"What are you doing here so early?" He asked. "I thought you had some doctor's appointment or something."

She shrugged. "I figured I'd drop by here first for…you know." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

His stomach lurched and that was when he realized that, without intending to, he had fallen for Barbra Jean. He so badly wanted to reject her after what him and Reba shared, but he equally wanted to give her whatever she wanted. It killed him to say no to her and he avoided it at all costs.

"I don't know…"

"Come on. Your next patient doesn't arrive for another half hour. That'll give us just enough time and I can make it to my appointment on time."

He tried to ignore her touch and her words, but she had an effect on him that he couldn't resist.

_One last time can't hurt…_

**xXx**

The front porch swing creaked as Reba gently swayed back in forth in it. Her daddy's voice sounded in her ear and she couldn't help but smile.

"How are you doin', Daddy?"

J.V. grunted. "I've been better, but I'm doin' okay."

"Been to the doctor lately?"

"Oh, I went last week."

"What did he say?"

"It doesn't really matter. Let's talk about something else."

Reba sighed, frustrated. This was the second time she had tried to figure out what was going on and he shut her up.

"Alright. How's the ranch goin'?"

"Having to hire more help everyday."

"Oh, Daddy, you know I'd help if I could."

"I know. Here. Your mama wants to talk to you."

"Alright."

"Reba?"

"Hi, Mama."

"Hi, honey. Listen, wait just a second. I'm gonna step outside, J.V."

Reba heard the sliding glass door to the backyard open then close.

"Okay." Helen sighed. "Reba, there's something I have to tell you."

"What? Is it about Daddy?"

"Yes. When he went to the doctor's the other day, they diagnosed him with heart disease. They said his heart's failing more and more each day. He refuses to take his medication, and I'm afraid that if things get any worse, we're going to have to sell the ranch."

"Sell the ranch?" Reba's heart started beating faster and faster. Her daddy was withering away day by day and her childhood home was to go to someone who would never appreciate it like the McKinney family did.

"I'm afraid so. Reba, he's not doing good at all. Most times, he just sits in his chair and watches TV. He just doesn't have the strength to do much else. If you can, you really ought to make a trip up here."

"I'll be there next week." She'd take off work and Brock could take care of Jake. "And I'm bringing Elizabeth. So Daddy can meet her."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I do. I'll get plane tickets first thing tomorrow and call you afterwards to set everything up."

"Shouldn't you talk to Brock first?"

Reba rolled her eyes. "I'm a grown woman, Mama. I don't answer to him."

"Well, you know best, I suppose. Call me tomorrow, honey."

"I will, Mama. Bye."

They both hung up as Brock pulled into the driveway. Reba was about to shove her phone in her pocket when her phone beeped, indicating a text. She glanced at the number then deleted it without reading when she realized it was Jack. She stood as Brock walked up onto the porch.

"I'm going to Oklahoma next week," She told him.

He stood there with his jacket draped over his arm, holding a briefcase and a coffee thermos with a shocked expression. "What for?"

"Daddy isn't doing good and I just talked to Mama. They may have to sell the ranch and I want to get up there just in case he doesn't have much time left."

"Oh. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. Could you hold down the fort here? I'm going to see if Elizabeth wants to come."

He nodded. "Right. She'd like that."

"Yeah."

Reba played with a stray string on her jeans before taking a deep breath. "I might go to Cheyenne's house and tell her. I'd rather not do it over the phone."

"Okay. Do you want me to start dinner and have it ready when you get back?"

She smiled. "I'd like that." She gave him a kiss goodbye and he held her hand until she walked off the porch with one last glance behind her.

**xXx**

_July 1979_

"You still haven't sang for me."

Reba turned around to see Brock come up behind her where she was sitting out back behind the house.

"You haven't asked."

He sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I have so. The first day we met. You said no."

She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder as they watched the sun go down.

"You really want me to sing for you?"

"Yes."

"_Hello, darlin', nice to see ya. It's been a long time. You're just as lovely as you used to be. How's your new love? Are you happy? Hope you're doin' fine just to know it means so much to me."_

Brock kissed the side of her head. "Nice song choice."

"What?"

"That's sad!"

"Well, hell, Brock. What do you think country music is? Besides, I think it's a beautiful love song, so you can just go and kiss my-"

"Reba. Okay. No need to get like that."

"Like what?"

"I'm going to stop talking now…"

"Good idea."

They sat in silence for a moment before Brock said, "You did sound beautiful, though."

"Stop tryin' to kiss up."

"Who's Up? Why would I want to kiss them when I could kiss you?"

She turned her head and right into his kiss. She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. No matter how big of a butt he could be, she knew he knew how to make it better.

"That's not fair," She complained softly when they pulled away, the sun quickly disappearing over the hill.

"What's not fair?"

"You kissing me like that so I won't be mad anymore. Maybe I want to be mad."

He kissed her again, pulling her closer this time. He was determined to make her be quiet about his mistake and put all her focus on his love for her.

"Would you stop?" She asked, pulling away.

"Stop what?"

"Kissing me when I'm right in the middle of tal-"

His lips devoured hers once more and when she finally relaxed into his arms did he know he had won.

"You're mean," She told him when they pulled away. She curled up against him as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You like it." He kissed the top of her head, an idea forming in his brain. She'd most likely kill him for it, but it was certainly worth a try.

**xXx**

_February 2007_

She still felt the warmth of Brock's hand as she drove along the road to Cheyenne's house. It was about a half hour drive but she didn't mind. It gave her time to think.

Things were seemingly getting better between her and Brock, but she knew that the baby she carried would soon make an appearance. She still had no idea how to explain or deal with that obstacle.

"I can't lie to him," She whispered to an empty car. "Not when things are looking up."

A single tear escaped from her eye and she wiped it away, angry she had let it fall. She tightened the grip on the steering wheel and cursed herself for not waiting a few months so her and Brock's relationship could mend. If she hadn't have slept with Jack when she was at her weakest, everything would be okay now.

_But you did. You were a big slut and slept with another man. Now you get to pay the price._

Her hands began to shake as she unwillingly let more tears fall. Her eyes were blurred as she began full on sobbing. All her problems were catching up to her again, and she became frightened when her heartbeat became fast and she couldn't hear. It was as if she wasn't really there, and she knew she was having another panic attack.

She tried to calm down but knew she had to get off the road as quickly as she could. Slowly turning the wheel to pull into a gas station, she took a deep breath, thinking it would help get more oxygen to her brain so it could tell the rest of her body to get a grip. But in her clouded state of mind, she didn't look before turning. Therefore, she didn't see the oncoming truck or the car pulling out of the gas station.

**xXx**

_July 1979_

"Get dressed. We're going out."

Reba looked up from her book to see Brock standing in her doorway.

"Brock!" She stood up. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"I told you we're going out." He went to her closet and rummaged around.

"Hey, get out of there!" She ran over to him and pulled on his shoulders. "Brock, get away!"

"Hiding something?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.

"No!"

"You have a dead body in here, don't you?"

"Just stop it." She tried to duck under him and get into her closet, but he prevented her from doing so.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked, pulling clothes to the side, trying to find the dress she had worn on their first date.

"I don't want you in my closet!" She tugged on his shirt and he had to laugh.

"You're not moving me, so just give it up." He located the dress and pulled it off the hanger, but stopped when he spotted a familiar article of clothing. He grabbed the hanger with the button down, plaid shirt and turned around with it. "What is this?"

She bit her lip and stepped back, folding her arms. "I don't know."

"I've been missing this for weeks."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He smirked. "You stole my shirt?"

"No, I didn't." She snatched her dress from him and shoved him out of the way to hang it back up. "I found it."

"Where?"

"In the barn."

"Yeah. I had taken if off because I was hot. When I came back for it, it was gone."

"I thought I'd wash it for you."

"And not give it back?"

She shrugged and he laughed. "Do you sleep with it or something? Come on, what's the big deal? I don't care if you took it. I'm just teasing."

She wouldn't face him. Instead, she stood in her closet, playing with the buttons on the dress.

"Reba?"

"What?"

"Why did you take it?" When she didn't answer, he asked again. "Come on. Just tell me."

"I wanted it for when you left in August, okay?" She turned around and Brock saw the tears in her eyes. "I wanted something to remember you by."

He stood there, feeling like the biggest idiot. "Reba, I'm sorry-"

"No. You don't understand, do you? You'll leave and forget about me, but I can't forget about you. That's why I took it. I never want to forget you. When we're married to other people and have families, I want to look back and remember this time we shared." She pushed past him. "Just take it back."

She went to sit on her bed and Brock followed.

"You don't have to steal my shirt, Reba," He said, kneeling in front of her. "Don't you know that I never want to leave?"

"So? That doesn't mean you'll stay."

"You know I can't stay." She nodded and he continued. "But you don't have to, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Come with me."

"To Houston?"

"Yeah. We'll both go in August and be together . What do you say?"

"You really want me to come with you?"

"I've never wanted anything more in my whole life. I love you. Why wouldn't I want to be with you? We'll get a little house in the country, make lots of beautiful babies and grow old together. We'll be together so long, we'll have to replace our rocking chairs with wheelchairs."

She smiled through the tears and he wiped them away as they fell.

"I'm scared, Brock." She held onto his shoulders as he caressed her face.

"I know. But it'll be okay. We'll have each other."

They shared a kiss as Reba's heart soared. She had been waiting for this moment for what seemed like forever.

"So, get dressed," Brock told her, pulling away.

"Where are we going?"

He stood. "You'll see." Then he winked and left her room, waiting for her in his uncle's truck.

When she finally finished getting ready and climbed into the truck, Brock started down the road.

"Will you please tell me where we're going?"

"Promise you won't get mad?"

She slowly turned her head to look at him. "What did you do?"

He smiled. "You are going to sing at that little place down the road. They have a house band and my uncle knows the owner."

"Well, you might as well just turn this truck back around 'cause there ain't no way in hell I'm getting up on some stage and singin' in front of a bunch of people."

"Yes, you are. Reba, your voice is amazing. If you don't end up doing that for a living, it'll be a damn shame."

"Brock, I don't want to. I'm not going to." She folded her arms and stared out the window, refusing to talk to him.

The whole way there, he made conversation with her but she didn't reciprocate. She was silent there and she was silent as they pulled into the parking lot.

"Look," He said as he killed the engine and turned towards her. "I didn't mean to make you mad, but I really think you'll have a good time. They're a nice group of people. They're not going to laugh and point or anything."

"I don't care. I ain't never sang in front of anybody but my mama and daddy and you."

"You have to get over that stage-fright if you want to be a singer. I'll be right there watching. You don't have to go in there alone."

She looked at him, fear swimming around in her eyes. "What if they don't like me, though?"

He smiled. "They will. Trust me. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

He climbed out of his side and ran around to open her door, holding on to her hand as they both walked inside. Reba felt like her legs were going to give out and her hands were shaking. She held a hand to her head as she walked in behind Brock.

There were a few tables positioned in the small room, a tiny stage with a microphone and a drum set off to the side beside a guitar on a stand. The bar was the main attraction. All the people there sat on one of the stools, drinking some kind of alcohol or another. Brock began talking to someone but Reba stood still, staring at the stage. A second later, Brock came up to her. "You want to sing that song you sang for me the other day?"

"Not particularly."

"Reba…"

She sighed then nodded and Brock told the guitar player who walked up to the stage and sat down on a stool with his guitar. A second later, the drummer joined in and Brock leaned in, saying, "Just go on up and sing, okay? I'll be right here."

She didn't move. Her knees were locked and fear took over.

"Reba, it's okay. Go on." He gave her a gentle nudge and she almost fell over walking to the stage.

"Hi," She told the guitar player.

"Hello," He responded. "Are you the one that's singing?"

"Yes. Do you know 'Hello, Darlin' by Conway Twitty?"

"I do. Just hop up onstage and nod when you're ready."

She slowly moved towards the small stage and stepped up. She walked behind the microphone and gripped it tightly, searching the room for Brock. She located him at the end of the bar closest to her. She breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, she thought he had left.

He smiled at her and winked before mouthing 'I love you' to calm her nerves.

She closed her eyes and nodded slightly. The music began and she opened her mouth to sing.

"_What's that, darlin', how am I doin'? I'm doin' alright, except that I can't sleep. I cry all night till dawn. What I'm tryin' to say is I love you and I miss you and I'm so sorry I did you wrong. Look up, darlin', let me kiss you just for old times sake. Let me hold you in my arms one more time."_

The crowd applauded and somebody whistled. When Reba opened her eyes, she noticed everyone was smiling, so she smiled back. When she walked off the stage, Brock went up to her.

"I knew you could do it," He told her as he gave her a hug.

"I did it. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I wanna do it again."

Brock grinned at her smiling face and eyes full of life. He gave her a kiss and said, "Go get 'em."

She ran off towards the stage to sing another song and Brock cheered as if she was the biggest superstar in America. He was so proud of her. He knew she could do it all along and he hoped this wasn't the last time he could help her overcome her fears.

**xXx**

_February 2007_

She was freezing cold. The bitter wind flew around her as she blindly reached for someone, something. She knew she had been hurt, but she had no idea where she was. She thought she heard sirens in the distance, but she wasn't sure. All of a sudden, the sound of voices reached her ears.

"Nobody touch her! Stand back!"

The whir of a machine began and then a sawing sound. It was near her and she tried to get away from it when another voice spoke.

"Don't move. It's okay. We're gonna get you out."

She tried to open her eyes but they were so heavy. She just lay still like she was told until she felt several hands on her, pulling her away from her vehicle and onto a stretcher.

A horrifying realization reached her brain as she tried to speak, but no one heard her. She felt a prick in her arm before her world went completely dark.

**xXx**

Just like a lot of people who wake up in a hospital, Reba wondered where she was and how she got there. She had very little memory of her accident and even less memory of even leaving the house. She opened her eyes and found that she was lying in a hospital bed, halfway propped up with pillows. She had a hospital bracelet on her wrist and she wore a polka-dotted gown. There was a TV bolted in the corner of the room, the volume on low.

"Hey," A voice to her left said.

She turned and through half-open eyes she saw Brock sitting in a chair next to her.

"Brock?" She asked.

He scooted his chair closer to her, grabbing her hand. She looked down to see that her arm was all cut up. It horrified her and she tried to jerk away.

"Reba, honey, what's wrong?" Brock asked in a quiet voice.

"How did this happen? What's going on?" She frantically searched for the remote that was attached to all hospital beds, desperate for a nurse's explanation. She located it and pressed the red call button repeatedly.

"Hey, take it easy," Brock said, grabbing the remote. "Do you remember anything?"

"No. What happened? Why am I here?"

"You were in a three-car collision.. They had to cut you out of your car."

She felt light-headed. A three-car collision? And she made it out alive?

"Was anybody hurt?" She whispered.

"Besides you, yes. The driver of the third car hit his head on the steering wheel. He has a severe concussion. They took him to the hospital on the west side of town."

"What about the other driver?"

Brock looked down briefly. "You know, it doesn't matter. You're okay. Okay?"

She wanted to nod, but felt as if she'd pass out if she moved her head too much. The nurse came in, so their conversation had to end, anyway.

"Mrs. Hart," The nurse with the green scrubs said, walking in. "You pushed your call button fifteen times. Are you alright? We're glad to see you awake."

"I just want to know what happened," Reba responded, trying to focus on the brunette with the long ponytail before her.

"I'll let the doctor come in and tell you later, alright? Right now, just get some rest." She began fiddling around over by the sink, washing her hands, before she leaned out into the hall and pulled a cart in. "I'm just going to get you a sedative, alright?" She picked up a vial and walked to Reba's bedside.

"No," Reba said sternly. "I want to see my doctor. I don't want to sleep."

"Reba-" Brock began.

"Don't even start to argue with me," Reba told him, looking back at the nurse. "Please just go get the doctor."

"I was instructed to give you this."

"Please."

The nurse sighed before agreeing and leaving the room a second later, promising to be back with the doctor.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Reba mumbled after she was gone.

Brock rubbed her hand. "No. Not bad at all." He gave her a reassuring smile, but she didn't notice. She was starting to feel the effects of her accident, and the pain medication was wearing off each second she was coherent.

The doctor, a tall man with black hair, walked in a second later.

"Hello, Mrs. Hart. Glad to see you're awake."

"So I've heard."

The doctor pulled up a chair that was on the right side of the bed and perched on the end of it.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, holding a small, computer like device.

"Achy. My head hurts. My whole body hurts."

"That's understandable. But you're lucky to be here. That was a nasty wreck you were in. If you hadn't have been wearing your seatbelt, you might not have been so lucky." Reba didn't respond, so the doctor went on. "You have a broken wrist, fractured cheek-bone, a few cuts and bruises, a mild concussion and-" He looked up, sighing. "-well, I hate having to do this. I do it more often that you'd think."

"Do what?"

"When you were brought in, we took a blood sample before we could give x-rays just to make sure you weren't pregnant. Well, as you probably know, that test came back positive."

"What?" Brock asked as Reba's blood ran cold.

"There was just too much stress put on the fetus," The doctor continued. "And you were only about sixteen weeks along. She was just too small to make it. I'm sorry, but we lost her."

The tears came instantly. She buried her face in her hands as the doctor stood, patting her knee.

"If there's anything I can do," He said. "Please let me know."

"Are you sure?" She sobbed.

"Reba, what is he talking about?" Brock asked, looking between the two.

"We're sure," He assured her. "I am very sorry, Mrs. Hart. I'll leave you two alone."

He exited quickly and closed the door. Brock looked at Reba who was crying uncontrollably.

"Is there something I should know?" He asked.

"I was pregnant," She told him, her voice rising. "And I lost it. What more do you need to know?"

"I'd like to know how you were sixteen weeks along when last week was the first time we've had sex in seven months."

"Why don't you pull your head out of your ass, Brock? For once in your life, can you just shut up and figure it out on your own without me having to spell it out for you?"

"You're not making any sense."

"I cheated, okay? Are you happy? Want me to say it again? I cheated on you, Brock, with our therapist."

"You did what?"

"Oh, my God. Just shut up and leave me alone."

"You cheated on me? How long has this been going on?"

"Seven months."

He stood up, shoving the chair backwards until it fell over.

"Stop that!"

"You want me to stop? You want me to stop destroying things?" He picked up the chair and chunked it at the wall, the wood splintering. "That's what I want, too! I want you to stop destroying our marriage! Never in a million years would I have thought you would do this!"

"Don't blame me! You had your own part in this!"

"Did I make you cheat on me? No, I didn't. How is it my fault?"

"That's not what I said-"

"I can't _even_ believe you. You just keep screwing up again and again."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Did I fuck another man?"

"No-"

"Right. So how is this my fault?"

"I didn't say that it was! I'm sorry I got lonely and you weren't there. I'm sorry I was weak. I'm sorry I couldn't be strong day after day after day."

"This isn't about being strong! This is about staying loyal to me!"

"What's going on in here?" The brunette nurse walked in and saw the broken chair against the wall and Brock standing over Reba in a threatening manner. "Sir, would you please calm down and come with me?"

"You probably think I'm the bad one, right?" He asked with an odd laugh. "But I'm not." He pointed at Reba. "It's her. She cheated. She fucked someone else and then, got herself pregnant. Some wife, huh?"

"Sir, come with me or I'll have to call security."

"Call 'em. What do I care? Have 'em shoot me. I'll be better off." He began walking towards the door, anyway. He glanced back at Reba for a split second. "Thanks for that."

**Thank you for all the reviews! I'm so happy that you all are enjoying this story! The song is "Hello Darlin'" by Conway Twitty, for those of you who might be wondering. Also, I've been thinking about doing a songfic after this story is over. What are some songs you all like that I could write a songfic for? Review and let me know, and also review about the chapter, of course! (:**


	11. Chapter 11

Yeah. He had really ruined everything this time. Why had he yelled at her like that when he was doing the same damn thing?

Because it hurt. It hurt to know she had given up so long ago. It hurt to know that she had gone behind his back with so many lies and tricks, trying to keep her affair a secret.

What would happen when she found out about his affair? Would she do the same thing he did? Honestly, he didn't know. All he could think about was the hurt in her eyes when he had screamed at her in the hospital.

They had let her out of the hospital the next day, and she had asked if Cheyenne would stay with her. She didn't tell her daughter why, but Cheyenne was more than happy to. The women stayed in Reba's bedroom for four days straight. Brock never saw them leave. Although, that could be because he stayed out of the house as much as possible. He went to work early in the morning and came home late at night. He couldn't face her. Not just yet.

**xXx**

"So, Mom, how are you feeling?" Cheyenne asked Reba as the sun slowly rose on the fifth day of hiding out.

Reba shrugged. "Fine, I guess." She tried to sit up, ready to get out of this horrid bed that had become her prison. She had no desire to speak to Brock, but she knew that if she stayed in bed any longer, it would kill her.

"Do you want one of your painkillers?"

Reba nodded, slowly moving to the bathroom. Everything was sore, but the doctors assured her she'd heal just fine. They had also told her about the second driver in the crash. He had died on impact, and Reba knew it had been her fault. She was the one who hadn't looked before turning into the gas station. She realized that when her memory started returning. She recalled having a panic attack and, well, panicking.

She shook her head, trying not to cry anymore as she closed the bathroom door, leaning against it. One of the most hardest things she had been going through was that she had lost her baby. Before the doctor even said the words, she knew that the little girl was gone. She could feel it. It was a heartbreaking feeling, and she vowed to never put herself in that situation where that kind of hurt could inhabit her mind ever again.

Then there was Brock. He had never spoken to her like that in all the years they had been together. Sure, they had had fights, but they had never been that unbearable. But she didn't really blame him. She had messed up big-time. She had betrayed him in the worst way possible, and she didn't know how to fix it.

"You okay in there?" Cheyenne asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine." She thought a minute. "Cheyenne?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to Oklahoma Saturday and I want Elizabeth to come with me."

"What? Are you sure you should go? You were just in the hospital."

Reba opened the door to find Cheyenne holding a pill bottle and a bottled water. "I have to go. If I stay in this house any longer, I'm going to go crazy."

"Do you want me to come with you? I don't mind, Mom, and I really don't want you to have to go alone."

"I'll have Elizabeth. If that's fine with you."

Cheyenne paused before nodding, guessing her mother was making sense. She hadn't left the house in almost a week and it was normal to want to go back to a place she knew and loved. Her home here had been under too much stress lately.

"I don't mind," She finally said. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I will. I'd never do anything that would put me and her in danger." She picked up her daughter's hands, realizing where her hesitation was coming from. "If I feel the slightest bit of a panic attack coming on, I'll pull over and rest, alright? I promise."

Cheyenne kissed her cheek. "I trust you."

She gave her mom a long hug. It had been awhile since they had hugged like that. It was sad that too much strain on a family could prevent everyone from showing affection. Some more than others…

When they pulled away, Reba forced a smile as Cheyenne said, "I have to run home and get Kasey to his doctor's appointment. Van's dying to get out of the house." She smiled. "Are you going to be okay? It'll only be a few hours."

"I'll be just fine."

"Okay. Call me if you need me. And be safe. We're supposed to get some bad storms."

"I will. You be safe, too. Especially on the road."

They hugged one last time before Cheyenne took off down the stairs and out to her car. Reba waited until she heard her drive away before she went downstairs.

The house was dark seeing as how it was only seven-thirty A.M., and Reba quickly turned on all the lights. She couldn't stand anymore darkness in her life. Not even natural darkness.

She slowly made her way to the couch where Brock had been sleeping since she came home from the hospital. She hadn't spoken one word to him for five days, and she didn't intend to anytime soon. She wouldn't even tell him she was leaving for Oklahoma.

Sighing, she sat down and reached for the remote before changing her mind. She enjoyed the silence. Jake had already left for school and Brock was at work. There hadn't been much peace in her life lately, so she treasured this moment. It was very nice until a buzzing sound reached her ears. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, spying Brock's phone on the coffee table. He must have left it.

The buzzing indicated a text. She knew it was a total invasion of privacy, but they were still married and what was his was hers, even though they hardly acted like a couple. So she picked up his phone and opened the text.

It was from a number she didn't recognize, and the words before her made her want to scream.

**You're late, Brock. Get to the office now so I can-**

The next words were too explicit for her to even fathom someone typing out, much less actually sending. It made her want to throw up, but she went through the rest of the inbox. All the texts were just like the ones he had received a moment ago. And the ones he had sent were just as bad. She almost slid to the floor when she came across a text with the woman's name: Barbra Jean.

As she was coming to the end of the messages, the door opened and she turned to see Brock standing there, wet from the rain outside. He locked eyes with her and saw her holding his phone.

"I forgot that," He mumbled. Deep down, he knew that she had read everything on there.

She threw it at him as hard as she could. It hit him in the head and he groaned, holding his temple.

"What the fuck was all that?"

"What was what?" He began to tremble. She never spoke like that, no matter what. It scared him, as hard as that was to admit.

She stood up, thrusting a hand towards his phone that lay on the ground. "All the shit on your phone. Why would you send stuff like that to Barbra Jean? Are you just texting, or are you actually letting her do those things to you?"

He bent down and picked up his phone, putting it in his pocket. "What does it matter? We're pretty much over anyway."

"You have no idea the truth you've spoken. I want all your shit out of this house by the end of the day."

"Reba-"

"No! You're going to blow up at me for cheating when you've been doing the same? How low is that? It's pretty damn low. And I don't even blame you all that much. I should have known in the first place."

"It hasn't been going on long."

"Does it look like I give a damn? Cheating is cheating, like you've told me before. It doesn't matter how long or when or with who."

"You can't do this to me. You cheated, too. You did everything I did. Maybe more! With who knows how many men!"

"I may be a slut, but at least I'm not a dick with a big ego."

"No, you're just a gold-digging bitch."

"Nice comeback, honey."

"Thanks."

"Shut the hell up. Just get out. I don't even want to look at you."

He shrugged. "Nice to see a twenty-eight year relationship end like this."

She was already starting up the stairs. "It's been over for years, Brock. You've left me with nothing, but I've worked with less. I'll be just fine. You go have your affair with Barbra Jean all you want. I'm done."

"Yeah, have fun with your therapist!"

"I will!"

"Be sure and tell him about how you killed his kid."

She slowly turned around and glared at him. How dare he bring up her daughter. She walked up to him and slapped him right across the face.

"Fuck you. That's my daughter! Mine!" She shoved him backwards. "Don't you ever bring her up. Ever."

He looked into her eyes and saw the anguish, ignoring all the scratches from her wreck, seeing her true beauty, and he immediately regretted his words. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you are sorry, Brock. So am I. I'm sorry that I ever believed we had something special. " Tears formed in her eyes.

"We did."

"Well, it's over now." She started up the stairs again. "I'll be in Oklahoma when you get home from work, and when I get back next week, I better not see anything of yours in this house." She stopped long enough to pull her wedding ring off and fling it his way. Then, she twisted off her engagement ring, Brock's aunt's ring, and threw it next. Then she ran the rest of the way up the stairs.

She heard him leave after she spoke those words. Her door closed gently after she was safely in her room. She fell onto her bed and sobbed. Oh, how she loved him. No matter what he said to her or how he treated her, she'd always love him. But she couldn't keep going on like that. The hurt was too much.

She reached over and flipped the radio on, desperate for sound to get the imperfect thoughts out of her mind.

"_Thank you, darlin'. May God bless you and each step you take. Bring you closer to the things you seek to find. Goodbye, darlin', I gotta go now. Gotta try to find a way to lose these memories of a love so warm and true."_

She sobbed and listened to the words, horrified that she had just ended her marriage to the man she'd loved for nearly thirty years. But the words were true. She hoped he had all he ever dreamed of, but she had to make him leave so she could start to get over him.

**xXx**

Alone in his car, Brock banged his fist on the steering wheel. All of a sudden, every feeling he ever thought he had for Barbra Jean was lost as he realized how much he loved Reba. He had thought up the meanest things he could think of and said them to the woman that meant so much to him. And he hated himself for it because there was no turning back now. She was through, and he knew she meant it.

The rain pelted on the windshield, and thunder boomed in the distance.

_Perfect weather for today. Thanks, God…_

He sighed, feeling tears form in his eyes. He had always heard that if a man cried over a woman, he must have really loved her, and at that moment, he couldn't think of anything that was more true.

Her rings were heavy in his pocket, and his heart ached to think she'd never wear them again. The ring he always admired on her finger, the ring he swore he'd never take advantage of, had left her possession. She didn't want it anymore, and that killed him.

He turned on the radio, needing his thoughts to be centered around something else.

"_Thank you, darlin'. May God bless you and each step you take. Bring you closer to the things you seek to find. Goodbye, darlin', I gotta go now. Gotta try to find a way to lose these memories of a love so warm and true."_

That was when he really lost it.

**xXx**

"I can't believe we're going to Oklahoma!"

Elizabeth bounced in her seat as Reba drove along the interstate. She knew she looked like death warmed over, but she was happy she was going home to her mama and daddy. She needed them right now.

"Me, either," Reba mumbled.

Elizabeth didn't hear her as she looked out the window at all the farms and ranches they were passing as they crossed the Texoma border.

"Are we almost there?"

"Not quite. We'll be there soon."

"I'm bored."

Reba knew what she was taking on when she invited Elizabeth to go with her, so she wasn't surprised when Elizabeth kept saying things like, "I'm bored," "I have to go to the bathroom," "There's a dead skunk in the road," and "Are we there yet?".

"Why don't you get out your portable DVD player and watch a movie?" Reba suggested, glancing in the rear-view mirror so she could see Elizabeth.

The little girl shook her head. "Nah. I want you to tell me some more of the story."

Reba took a deep breath. What was the point? Her and Brock were over now.

"Oh, let's not. Not much else happens. We get married and here we are today."

"_Grandmaaaa_. Please?"

Reba sighed, giving in. She was glad, however, that the story was almost over and she'd never have to relive it again.

"Two days after I sang in that bar, your grandpa came to my house…"

**xXx**

_July 1979_

Brock walked down the front porch steps of his Uncle Pete's house, ready to head to Reba's. He had a ring in his pocket and a question to ask the love of his life. He had spent all last night talking to his uncle about Reba and Pete had been so touched, that he gave Brock his late wife's ring to give to Reba. Brock was ecstatic and couldn't wait to propose to Reba. He already asked her, in a way, but he wanted to make it official.

"Brock, where ya going?"

Brock turned around and looked back at the porch to see his uncle leaning over the railing. He couldn't stand up straight anymore because of his scoliosis.

"Headin' to Reba's."

Pete smiled and nodded. "I understand you wanna ask her right away, but there's work to do. One more day won't hurt a bit."

Brock knew he was right, but he was so anxious to ask and hear her say 'yes.' He couldn't wait to watch her eyes light up with excitement and jump into his arms. Then, he'd get to admire the ring on her finger for the rest of his life, knowing that she was his forever.

It sounded cheesy to him as he headed towards the pig-pen, but he smiled nonetheless. It was about to become a reality, and if his reality was cheesy, he didn't care because it was a damn good one.

**xXx**

_February 2007_

"We're here! We're here! I can't believe we're here!"

Elizabeth sang her sentences in a song as her and Reba walked up the front porch steps to Reba's childhood home. Mixed and bittersweet emotions ran through Reba's heart. With a glance behind her, she saw the barn where her and Brock had shared so many things. A lot of the red paint had peeled off of it, but it still had the same frame-work and foundation. It had hardly changed.

Elizabeth knocked on the screen door with the chipped green paint, and the two waited to be let in. A moment later, the front door opened and the screen door was pushed forward, revealing Helen. Her eyes were tired and Reba thought caring for the ranch and her daddy twenty-four-seven had aged her ten years.

"You know you don't have to knock," Helen told her daughter with a soft smile. "Come on in."

Reba stepped through, her eyes adjusting to the dim lights in the foyer. Elizabeth tagged along behind, looking around at all the old pictures on the walls and vintage furniture from the fifties.

"I just didn't want to interrupt Daddy in case he was sleeping or something."

Helen waved Reba off. "His hearing's going, anyway. Set your bags down. We'll take them upstairs later." She grabbed Reba's and Elizabeth's overnight bags and set it by the stairs. She looked up and caught sight of the little blonde-haired girl peeking around the corner in the dining room. "And this must be Elizabeth."

The seven year old turned around and stepped to Reba's side, nodding. "Yes." She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Reba and Helen chuckled before Reba said, "She's just like her daddy."

Helen shook her head, hands on her hips. "She's grown like a weed since the last pictures Cheyenne sent. How old are you now, sweetie?"

"Seven," Elizabeth answered. "How old are you?"

Helen chuckled. "Real old. Why don't we all come in here where your daddy is so you can say hi."

They all filed into the large living room where there was an ancient television set in the corner, the volume rather loud. There was a couch from the eighties and two recliners. One was occupied by a slightly overweight cowboy who, despite his illness and disability to get out and about most of the time, wore boots and Wranglers. When everyone came in, he turned his head and his eyes locked on Reba's.

"Hey. Foxy."

Reba smiled, tears nearly reaching her eyes, as she rushed to her daddy's side, taking his hand and kneeling beside his chair.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Been better."

Reba noticed her answered a lot of questions that way. She didn't like it.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get better." She turned to Elizabeth. "I brought somebody with me."

She motioned Elizabeth over and the little girl went up to Reba and J.V.

"Daddy, this is Elizabeth."

J.V.'s eyes lit up as he finally got to see this bright-eyed girl in person. A smile that had been absent for months cracked through the frown lines of his mouth, and he laughed. Then laughed some more.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and Reba looked at her daddy. "What's wrong?" She asked.

He tried to control himself as he said, "She looks just like you. She's the spitting image of you."

"What?" Reba and Helen both said at the same time.

J.V. nodded. "She's got them itty bitty legs, skinny scrawny arms, freckles and strawberry blonde hair. That hair will turn tomato red. Just watch."

Elizabeth smiled and Reba was grateful for her maturity. She was able to take it all in stride and understand he meant no harm. "I sure do hope so," She told him. "I wanna be just like Grandma."

"From the looks of things, you will be. Now, come on over here and give me a hug."

Elizabeth jumped up onto the recliner and wrapped her arms around J.V.'s neck. Reba's heart melted as she saw her daddy hug the little girl right back. It was as if they'd known each other the whole time and just hadn't ever met.

**So many reviews! Thank you so much, everybody! I really appreciate the fact you took time out to review. It means a lot. ((:**


	12. Chapter 12

Elizabeth and J.V. talked for hours it seemed like, while Reba and Helen were off in the kitchen making an early dinner. Reba would have loved happier conversation, but Helen insisted on talking about all the bad things that were happening.

"…but I've finally gotten him to where he won't work in the barn as much. He stays in his recliner most of the time, thank goodness. He needs to rest his heart."

Reba nodded as the two peeled potatoes.

"I think he'll be okay, though," She said, perhaps trying to convince herself.

Helen shook her head. "He's getting worse everyday. Plus his lungs aren't as healthy as they used to be. He's been around dust all his life, and it's finally getting to him. You can't breathe all that stuff in and not expect consequences."

"Mama, how about we try and stay positive?"

"I try to be, you know that. It's just difficult. I'm trying to prepare myself in case he does go."

"Mama!"

"I'm sorry." She set her paring knife down on the counter and picked up a dish towel, wringing it in her hands. "It's your grandma coming out in me. She never was an optimist."

"Well, I am, and I refuse to think that Daddy's dying."

"But he is, honey. I've been trying to accept it, and you have to, too. And so does Elizabeth. Part of me wishes she hadn't gotten so close to him in the past two hours."

"But she did. I needed her to. Brock and I have been telling her the story of how we met, and she's taken to it. It's her favorite thing to do, listen to us. She felt like she already knew Daddy. I had to let her come with me to meet him."

Helen nodded slowly, beginning to peel the potatoes once more. "Speaking of Brock, why didn't he tag along? Work?"

Reba sighed, figuring she'd have to tell everyone sooner or later. Her mother might not be the most positive of people, but Reba trusted her with her life. She'd keep it to herself until Reba told her otherwise.

"Brock and I are over."

Helen looked up, eyes wide behind her glasses. Reba nodded. "Yeah, we're getting a divorce…I guess."

"When did this happen?"

"We had a horrid fight this morning-"

"You just decided this morning? And you still came here? Honey, why?"

"I had to get out. And it wasn't a spur of the moment thing, either. I've been thinking about it."

"Well, what's so bad that you think you have to divorce?"

"It doesn't matter, really."

"Reba."

"…we both cheated. It had been going on for a while on both ends. He found out about me five days ago when I was in the hospital, and-"

"You were in the hospital? Why am I just now getting word of this?"

"Yes, I was in the hospital. I was in a three-car accident. And I didn't want to worry you, Mama. You have Daddy and the ranch to take care of. I'm a big girl. I can handle this just fine."

She put her head down and focused on peeling her potato just so.

"Reba, you know this is crazy, right?"

Reba shrugged. "We can't handle the fighting. We beat each other down, and intentional or not, it happens."

"You've been with him for twenty-eight years. I just knew you two would be the rare ones that'd make it."

"Yeah, well, we thought that, too."

Helen put her knife and potato down, hands on her hips. "I can't let you do this. You're gonna get the papers drawn up, signed, then regret it a month later, if not sooner. I can't watch you go through that."

"I'll be fine, Mama. I'm a big girl."

"So you've said. But even big girls can get hurt, and I know you're hurt. But please, please don't rush into this. Maybe you could just separate again. Get a little time apart."

"We tried that," Reba told her, getting frustrated. "All that did was cause me to go into depression, and him to think he could actually live without me. It made more problems if anything else. Besides, if we didn't divorce, he'd only cheat again. Once a cheater, always a cheater."

"Does that go for you, too?"

"I'd never cheat again. But it doesn't matter because we're over."

"Reba, you can't do that. You can't pin something on him when you're not him. Who's to say he wouldn't cheat? Who's to say you two still can't work it out?"

"Mama, it's over, okay? Nothing more can be done. We've tried it all. It just wasn't meant to be, so whatever. It was time well wasted."

Helen went back to peeling. She thought a moment before sighing. "Reba, I'm going to say this and only this: twenty-eight years ago when you two were so madly in love and running off together after your chores and sneaking out your bedroom window with sheets tied together - yeah, I knew about that - and kissing on the front porch 'til we flicked the porch lights on and off, I had many long talks with your daddy. You know what I told him?" Reba shook her head. "I told him, 'they're going to have so many knock-down, drag-out fights because they're worlds apart. They're nothing alike. They don't understand each other, and it'll always be a struggle.' And it has been, hasn't it?" Reba nodded and Helen went on. "But you learned to understand each other as the years passed. You know that he didn't mean to hurt you by cheating. I don't know the specifics, but we both know that it meant nothing to him. That's the kind of man he is. With his silly way of thinking, he probably thought it meant something, but it didn't. And your affair meant nothing, either, right?"

Reba didn't respond. She kept her head down as her bottom lip quivered.

"Reba, what aren't you telling me?"

"I got pregnant."

"By the man you were cheating with?"

Reba nodded. "And I lost her."

Helen began crying instantly and wrapped her arms around Reba.

"You can cry, honey. It doesn't make you any less strong."

That's when Reba started intensely sobbing. Brock had said something similar to that months ago. She hugged her mama tight as Helen spoke through the tears.

"This was just a roadblock. Don't give it up just yet. You'll regret it. I swear you will. You love Brock, and I know you don't need him, but you love him. And whether or not you want to admit it, you'd feel lost without him. You're one of the rare women who don't need a man to be happy, but there'd always be something missing. I saw how you two loved all those years ago. You were meant to be together. Till death do us part. Does that mean anything to you?"

"We've hurt each other too bad, Mama."

"No. Trust me. You haven't." She pulled away and brushed Reba's hair out of her eyes, wiping a few tears away. "Listen to your mama. Don't make this decision. It's not the right one."

Reba's mind was going a mile a minute. She wanted to believe her mama because she was right, but there was too much hurt. She wondered if she could forgive and forget. Or had everything blown up too big?

After Reba had managed to get away from her mother, she escaped outside. It was dusk and the sun was setting behind dark clouds. The view was something she hadn't seen in years, and it made her miss simpler times. Why couldn't it be twenty-eight years ago when all her and Brock knew how to do was love each other? Why did things have to change? Why did she have to grow up?

She felt a drop of rain on her nose and sighed. She looked up and saw those angry looking clouds, threatening a downpour, and decided to make a run for the barn. She couldn't go back inside. Not just yet.

The barn was dimly lit, just as she remembered. She walked along the halls, peeking in the stalls. She counted two horses, none of which she recognized. She knew that her horse had died of old age, and her daddy had sold some others. Slowly but surely, the ranch was dying right along with Daddy.

Going to Baby's old stall, Reba fought back fond memories. She didn't necessarily want to remember good times between her and Brock. They'd make her cry, and she figured she had cried enough for that day.

But when she closed her eyes, she was taken back to 1979.

**xXx**

_July 1979_

Reba spent several hours in the barn just admiring all the horses. She'd be leaving in a few short weeks, and she wanted to remember this place she called home. She was nervous about how she would tell her parents about her and Brock's plans. She wondered how they would react, and if they'd be angry at her. She hoped with all her heart they would understand and let her go. She'd be eighteen in December, and it was time for her to grow up and start living her own life. There was an amazing man in her future, and she hated to say it, but even if her mama and daddy didn't want her to go, she would anyway.

"I'm gonna miss you, Baby," She told her horse, petting its nose. The horse nodded its head a few times and Reba smiled. She hoped it wasn't the last summer here. She hoped to visit every summer until she died. And she wanted to be buried here, at home.

"Reba?"

She turned around, and there, in the doorway, was Brock. His jeans were dusty and his hair was an absolute mess, looked like he hadn't showered in a week, but she jumped into his arms anyway.

"I'm disgusting," He told her, laughing and hugging her tight.

"I don't care." She looked up at him and gave him a kiss. "What brings you here? I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. And I have a very important reason for being here."

"And what would that be?"

He grinned widely and got down on one knee, pulling his aunt's ring out of his pocket. "I know I've already asked you to come to Houston with me, but I didn't make it official. So, will you marry me and make me the happiest man in Oklahoma?"

Reba held her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. "Did you ask Daddy?"

"I did."

"Then yes!"

He stood up and slid the ring on her finger before hugging her tight.

"I promise you, I'll give you everything you ever dreamed of."

She smiled, pulling him as close as she could. "You already have."

**xXx**

_February 2007_

"Still looks the same in here."

Reba jumped and whirled around to see Brock standing in the door of the barn. Her heart did this weird fluttering thing as he spoke again. "Remember when I proposed to you in here? It was right over there, by that stall."

"Brock, what are you doing here?"

"Getting you back."

"I thought I told you I was done."

He shrugged and walked towards her, hands in his pockets. Reba almost melted. He walked like that all the time twenty-eight years ago.

"I thought you were, too."

There was an awkward silence. Cold air whipped around them, but somehow Reba stayed warm despite only having a light jacket on her arms. Brock wore nothing.

"But I realized you didn't really mean that," He continued.

Reba scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Shows how much you know. I was dead serious. Never been more serious in my life."

"No, you weren't. You didn't mean that, or anything you said this morning, for that matter. I didn't either. Plus you said 'was dead serious.' Past-tense. Reba, please stop being so stubborn. I know I've messed up-"

"Yeah, you have."

"-and so have you. We've hurt each other in ways I never thought we could. But through it all, I never stopped loving you."

"This has nothing to do with that! I wish everyone would stop focusing on love! It takes more than love to make a marriage work!"

"I know, but that's the foundation, Reba, and you know what? Our foundation hasn't crumbled. It hasn't swayed or buckled or even cracked. It's still there, Reba. All we have to do is go up. Build up. Why can't we do that? Why is that so hard?"

"'Cause we keep hurting each other!"

"We always will! Don't you see? That's what marriage is about! Yeah, we hurt each other, but we always stick together. It's called being a team."

"Being a team involves being there for me! You don't do that!"

"Yes, I do. I'm always there for you!"

"No, you're not! You push me away!"

"No, Reba. You don't come to me! You stopped coming to me a long time ago. What am I supposed to do? Ask if you're okay every five minutes? You have to tell me when you need me."

"You should already know!"

"No. That's part of our problem. You assume I know everything, but I don't."

"Of course I assume that! You used to know everything. You used to automatically figure out I was feeling upset, and then you'd fix it."

"We've grown."

"Yeah, apart."

"No, not apart. Stop talking as if things can never be fixed. Stay positive. You always used to tell me that. Years ago when this whole thing started, and we separated. You were the one doing what I'm doing now. You forced me to believe we'd be okay, and now, I'm doing the same. And I'll tell you, I never knew how stubborn I was. This side of the door isn't easy."

She thought a moment before asking, "What about the cheating?"

Brock hung his head, nodding. "Yeah. That was wrong."

"More than wrong."

"Hey, you did it, too."

Reba sighed. "We both did."

"Exactly. And I'll be sorry for the rest of my life. It was a ridiculous mistake, and it was selfish. I should have gone to you and told you how I felt instead of rushing to someone else."

"I…should have done the same…"

"Yes! See what happens when we let our guards down and stop being the most stubborn asses in the world? Things get fixed. This is what the acts of forgiveness and love can do! It mends broken hearts, Reba. I've had my heart broken, and so have you. But they can mend."

"All the way?"

"All the way."

She let the tears she had been holding back fall.

"Brock, I just can't get hurt again. It's happened too many times."

"I can't guarantee you won't get hurt. But I can promise you I'll never mean to hurt you."

She nodded. He was right. The things they said and did to the other meant nothing. They acted out of anger the majority of the time.

"We gotta go back to being the beautiful southern belle and crazy dentist guy. That's all we know. That's what we do." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out her rings, kneeling before her. "Reba, I have screwed things up again and again and again, and I don't deserve your love. Maybe I've taken it for granted. No, I know I have. And I'm sorry. I'll always be sorry, but I can't live without you. Your daddy told me that you can live without me. I believe him. You don't need me, and I'm fine with that. That's who you are, and I love who you are. But I can't live without you. I simply can't. So, please, please take these rings so we can start to fix things." He held them out to her and she put out her left hand. He smiled and slipped them on her ring finger, standing and taking her in his arms.

"I love you, Brock. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. It's over. We're gonna fix things, okay?"

He looked into her eyes and reached up to wipe away the tears that were rolling down her face.

"I'm so glad you came here."

He smiled and began the ending lines of the song they had kept in their hearts for years. "And if you should ever find it in your heart to forgive me…"

"…come back, darlin', I'll be waitin' for you."

"Kiss! Kiss!"

They looked over and saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway of the barn holding J.V.'s hand. They were both bundled up in their winter coats, smiling wide, and Elizabeth wore a pair of boots ten times too big.

"Well," Brock said. "I'd love to."

"Don't make me have to go flick the porch lights," J.V. said as they two shared their first kiss in the newest chapter of their life. They were going to mend everything. They finally opened their eyes and saw the wonders that the acts of forgiveness and love could do.

_The End_

**Wow! Is this really the end? It seems like I just started posting! Thank you so much for all the reviews and the kind words. They mean a lot. I know I said I was going to do a songfic next, but I've decided to do another chapter story, as I'm itching to get an idea I've had for awhile typed out. Hope that'll be alright. I might have chapter one on that posted as soon as tonight, but if not, tomorrow. Again, thank you so much for the reviews! ((:**


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